Visions of a Paranoid Schizophrenic
by Unimaginative Lot
Summary: She was homeless, filthy and psycotic: everything society detests in a human being... She saw things others couldn't, and she knew she wasn't crazy... Set during book five. Not a romance. Slight ambiguous spoilers starting in chapter 3..
1. A Strange Occurance

Disclaimer: I do not own, I never did own, and I never will own the lovely Harry Potter universe or its timeless characters. Just this fun input…

Chapter 1 - A Strange Occurrence

The day was drawing to a close fast and it was imperative that she find some form of shelter quickly. The eastside of London hadn't been an inviting place in the times of knights and ladies, and it most certainly hadn't lost the aspects of a slum centuries later in the modern world. She was dirty, alone, and an immediate target for those with low intensions, not to mention the more innocent enemy: London's legendary fog and chill. She clutched her tattered and insufficient overcoat close around her tight skinned and bony body, being that she had little under it. As she trotted along a lonely alleyway she pondered all the strange things she had seen over the years. After all, that was why she was in this mess of a life. She saw things others couldn't see, and she was sure that if she hadn't chosen to take flight while still a child she would have ended up sucking in electricity twice a week and discussing her imbalanced brain cells with ignorant PHD holders for the rest of her life. They didn't understand. She was certain she wasn't crazy: she had spent most of her early years studying philosophy and could probably lick any of those rich swabs at a test of wits without much ado.

For now, however, she had to scurry about from slum to slum avoiding predatory attack like some sort of animal. She came upon a spot she believed would suffice for the night and settled comfortably in dark shadows. No one could see her until morning and she could forget who she was and where she was for now while the world of dreams and melodies took her captive.

After a few short flashes of what she believed to be men with long wooden sticks emitting colourful light she awoke sweat drenched and scared. It had seemed like a strange dream, but it felt like so much more. Along the years she had learned to discern what was fiction in her mind's eye and what was not. Her family had thought them nightmares followed by dismal coincidence, but when she began proving them wrong it became clear she could no longer trust anyone. Her parents would have her leave their home for a strange and horribly psychotic place composed mainly of people who had a clear lack of stability. She would prefer death to such a fate, and so took flight.

She looked about wondering if she were alone now that she felt so ill at ease. She heard footsteps and lowered herself even deeper into the shadows waiting for the figure to pass, linger, or otherwise make life hard on her. She saw two figures coming from opposite ends of the alleyway towards one another and mentally cursed her position: she was a sitting duck crouched behind a dumpster with no escape in either direction. She silently slipped her hand into her padless shoe, withdrawing a small pocket knife she had had since childhood: it was her only memento from her beloved father. Opening it carefully so as to prevent it from squeaking in protest, she waited and watched each set of feet progress down the long alleyway. They suddenly stopped as they reached each other, and a deep baritone voice soon began carrying on a dialogue she couldn't quite understand from a short distance: clearly the speaker was keeping his voice as low as possible. After a short exchange of which she only caught odd sordid words such as 'Raid,' 'The Order,' and 'Anger the Dark Lord,' she suddenly could not see one pair of feet any longer though they had been in her line of vision not one faction of an instant before. They had indeed vanished from her view, and she became even more uneasy wondering if the owner of said feet had somehow discerned her hiding spot and decided to sneak round to her. For a short moment she panicked before spotting a small gully beneath her dumpster just big enough for her body to squeeze into. It was an excellent hiding place: even if the man sat next to the filthy dumpster he would not see her. She quickly and silently smashed herself through the entrance of the gap and settled herself on her belly, so she could peer out at the man left standing in the middle of the alley. She kept a sharp ear for any sound besides the man she could now see fully from under the dumpster.

He was oddly dressed in long hanging high collared coats which reached to the ground. He looked like some sort of dark angel: every stitch of his cloths a deep black. His shoulder length hair was also deep black unlike his pale face which was in sharp contrast with the likewise oblique black depths of his eyes. She was inexplicably transfixed by this strange persona of sorrow and strength, pain and predator. He was a mystery. He suddenly seemed to sense eyes on himself however. He looked about with sharp vigilance, the worried pensiveness from a moment ago entirely gone. He withdrew a thin wooden stick from an inner pocket and took a turn about the alley before stalking back into the shadows of the opposite wall and taking a stance of patient waiting.

'Oh joy!' she thought. Though she was intrigued by this man, she would much rather have her alley back to herself for the night without the unsurety which comes with company.

She began dozing again after a length of time undetermined. She dreamt of more colourful lights emitting from strange sticks like the one her mystery man had displayed. She also saw, in her dreams, a man with long waist length hair of an astonishingly blond shade. He also wore the black body length garb which she had seen on the Dark Angel, but he some how gave it a different shade. His persona was one of total malice. She didn't like the feel of this man though he was only the figure of a dream.

She awoke to more hushed voices coming from a group of men this time. The Dark Angel was centre most in the conversation. He seemed to be organizer and leader of the floor, seconded only by… the blond man she had dreamt of just now? She touched her forehead and nodded in understanding when she felt it once again sweat drenched: that was no dream.

Suddenly there was the sound of rushing foot steps as if a stampede was charging headlong into the alley. The group of men in long robe style coats turned in immediate action: all withdrawing identical wooden sticks like those she had seen in her dreams. Alas! The alleyway was a flood of many coloured lights flashing in all directions as all the men in the original group scattered and took refuge in corners, shadows and behind the plentiful rubbish that was scattered throughout the long alleyway. The blond man dashed behind her dumpster where she had previously taken refuge. Though he could not perceive even the slightest hint of her presence she could see him clearly from her vantage point, mere feet from where he crouched, avoiding the strange lights which seemed to shoot in direct and purposeful lines.

He had cold grey eyes, and though he was quite handsome and distinguished for a man of about forty, he held a certain something in his face which did not appeal to her at all. His line of vision caught her attention though. He was looking straight at the man she had tabbed 'Dark Angel,' who was standing behind a stairwell firing light from his luminous stick now and again; when he could avoid being hit by one himself. Now she new exactly what she disliked about the blond man: jealousy was not a becoming colour on him. As she often did with most people, she suddenly received an entire painted picture of the situation at hand. This man envied the Dark Angel's ability, position in the group, and overall person so much that he would do anything to bring him down in the eyes of the world or take his place. The fact that they were allies in this battle mattered not. As if receiving transmissions from some unseen telegraph, she new precisely when and how the blond would strike and used her position as unseen company to dash his despicable designs. Just as he raised his stick and was about to fire what she knew would be a florescent ocean blue light she reached out and yanked his foot towards her, releasing him as he lost his balance and dropped his stick. It rolled under the dumpster. And, though shocked at her luck and apprehensive of the dangerous object all at once, she took it and stowed it within the bosom of her thin overcoat. She watched as panic flitted across the man's aristocratic features. He began feeling round for his stick in the gutter: even going so far as to reach under the dumpster and blindly scour the ground there. She was half tempted to stab his offending fingers with her pocket knife but thought better of it. He extricated his hand with a jerk and looked about in dire concern for himself. He slumped further behind the dumpster and for all intents and purposes seemed to have abandoned the battle.

Though she kept a firm awareness of him, she looked about as well. These strange lights seemed to have the power to vanish, blast, or sicken their targets. She watched as a man with grey streaks through his short brown hair was hurled against a wall and slumped to the ground. She wanted to do something other than lie here quietly under a dumpster and watch all this calamity unfold; as her silent companion did with pleasure. After a moment she slipped the stick out of her garment and looked at it closely. It was shiningly black with a silver handle in the shape of a snakes head. It measured about three quarters of an inch in width and twelve inches in length. She was tempted to give it a wave as she had seen done by these warriors, but who would she target? She had no idea which side was fighting for what cause. The man she would target might just be the man that could have made a difference for the better. She could test it on its owner. That would at least liberate her of an extra chance of being discovered by a man who clearly did not have good intensions towards anyone. She took aim and motioned her hand in imitation. The stick vibrated weakly but did no more. She looked at it puzzled and tried a few more times until it produced no effect at all. She sighed and stowed it back in her coat for safe keeping.

She continued to watch until the battle tapered off some. Many of the charging men had departed wounded or carrying victims of their side. Many from the original group had been equally affected by the events of the evening, and finally there was only a few left of the latter peering about for what was left of their wounded. The Dark Angel was among them, and of course the blond man was biding his time. He finally slunk round the other side of the dumpster and showed himself, appearing as if he was searching with the rest of them.

"Well Severus, I believe all have been accounted for. Seven dead, five wounded, and the rest of us in good form." He had naturally gotten a real good opportunity to keep count from his hiding spot and wasn't wasting it to appear as if he was distinguished in the heat of battle.

"Indeed," was all 'Severus' replied. "I suggest you, Nott and Macnair take yourselves back to the strong hold and aid with the wounded. I shall finish up here and give report on my return."

"Or I could give report. The Dark Lord will not be pleased to find we've lost so many in merely an unexpected alley side brawl with The Order. I could spare you the unpleasantness of informing him."

"That wont be necessary Lucius. He'll want to know what occurred from me as I was in charge. And besides, I feel we gave just as much as we got. Don't you agree? After all you had a wonderful vantage point." He gave his ally a meaningful look which was lost on the others but most certainly caught by the blond.

'Lucius' gave Severus a scowl and stopped trying to pressure him. He nodded to Nott and Macnair without giving his superior another backwards glance. "We'll use side long apparation. No need to waste energies when we've got men to cure. Nott! You take the lead." He grabbed the other man's arm who also grabbed the third's arm, and they all vanished simultaneously. The Dark Angel was again standing alone in the alleyway.

He seemed to ponder for a moment before whipping out his stick and giving it a vast sweep in her direction. Before she could even process what was happening the dumpster was flung through the air, exposing her presence in a most undignified position. She rolled on her back as he came towards her and did the only thing her shocked mind could think of: she withdrew Lucius's stick and jammed it in the air threateningly. She thought perhaps he would believe she was one of the 'Order members' and be sufficiently impressed to leave her be. She had been in street fights with regular criminals before and she meant business. He could see this in her eyes and stopped his progress as he kept his stick loosely trained on her.

He narrowed his eyes in thought and spoke. "Who are you?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

Thanks for reading…


	2. Revelations

Chapter 2 - Revelations

She stared up at the man she had been intrigued with mere hours before. Maintaining a deadly serious face, she had become the picture of offensive defence. If she was a feline she probably would have been hissing. Well after all, what else could she do? Presently she was lying on her back in the gutter of an abandoned alleyway with a mysterious man who had just come out on top in the midst of a battle among powerful weapons she could not comprehend, let alone use. There was absolutely nothing she could do to protect herself and she knew it. Her only defence was a façade of threat. Hopefully he would be deterred by the stick weapon she still aimed directly at his heart. There was her pocket knife which she would use as a last resort, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe she could triumph with it in this circumstance.

He took a sweeping glance of her, from her ragged shoes to her dishevelled and dirty beige coloured hair. Being the shrewd spy he was, he began analyzing the situation. She was not an Order member, nor was she a Death Eater: he knew the many faces of those recruited into each, and she did not belong to either group. Perhaps she was a sympathizer? He had seen the small skinny hand that had shot out from under the dumpster to yank Lucius off balance and almost smirked at the memory. Of course, he had seen Lucius preparing to fire at him as well, and unbeknownst to him or this fiercely defensive girl, he had already set a powerful shielding charm around himself. He also noted her strange actions. Unlike most wizards and witches, who chose to carry their wands in the sleeve or the hip pocket (not to mention the dunderheads who thought of putting them in the back pocket of muggle trousers), she chose to carry hers in the bosom of her muggle coat. She also refrained from using magic to stop Lucius, which would have been much easier and safer from her hiding spot. She did not seem to want to enlighten him however, as she simply continued to glare at him. At length she rose to her feet slowly.

"I have nothing to do with your fight. I only want to be left be." She started backing away from him towards the exit of the alleyway, all the while keeping her stick weapon severely steady on him.

He suddenly noticed that the wand she held looked awfully familiar. How could he not have noticed it before: being that he had fraternized with the blond since his school days, he should have recognized the man's wand straight away. With a swift motion he disarmed her silently: Lucius's snake headed wand gliding back into his outstretched hand. "I believe this belongs to a friend of mine."

Now she was in a real fix. He had called her bluff and left her powerless. She backed up slowly, not letting her glare slip, while he advanced. She stuck her chin out defiantly and stopped backing away before her back could hit the wall. Frankly she didn't know what the devil she was going to do.

"Now I ask again, Who. Are. You." He asked extending his weapon within an inch of her face.

She kept her glair firmly on while internally panicking. Her claustrophobia from childhood was returning in full force while she contemplated what would happen if she hyperventilated. Then self preservation kicked in. Her mind began working at an alarming rate: so much so that it was no longer her own. At this heightened level of perception, that she sometimes allowed herself to indulge in unblocked, she could see quite a lot. She could see the condition of his body: the scares and wounds abounding his flesh as well as the health of his internal organs. She could see his inner struggles and emotional pain. She could see what prayed on him without his knowledge. His past and his future came flooding into her eyes like an unstoppable deluge. "Did you know that you are followed by a creature intent on praying on your weaknesses?"

He raised a brow. "Oh yes… and what creature might that be: a land grindylow?"

"I don't know what to call it. It's red in colour with a smiling face. It's this creature who whispers in your ears telling you to remember your schoolboy torments on days you thought you could forget."

His expression slipped slightly from stoic to serious. "There's no such creature in existence madam," he said. "A seer, are you. Well then, I must require your presence before my master. We needn't have a perceptive spy running about." And before she could do anything but show indignation, he hit her with a relaxing spell which made her uncontrollably sleepy until finally she couldn't help but collapse as everything went black as the robes of her captor.

* * *

The first thing she felt upon regaining consciousness was confusion. That tact had always worked in driving away people she thought might give her trouble over the years. All she need do was tell them things they couldn't deny nor confirm. They would always give her strange looks then leave her be. It merely drove the Dark Angel to trapping her.

She felt horribly sore from constantly sleeping on concrete, squishing herself under a dumpster, and falling to the ground hard under the effects of that strange weapon. She winced and craned her neck to relieve the kink in it. Upon reflection however, she did feel quite comfortably cushioned at the moment. It was a sensation she hadn't felt in years: sleeping on a bed. As she slowly opened her eyes golden hues washed into her vision, merrily unaware of the dreary black-washed walls. The room was clearly lit by candles and cozy firelight. The gothic room was further made homey by the soft chatter taking place somewhere beyond her peripheral vision. She squinted then opened her eyes wide to rid herself of the groggy unpleasantness she felt. She looked about and saw that the soft chatter belonged to two silhouetted figures occupying seats in front of the fire.

"Ah, awake at last." A pleasant looking and tall elderly man with an impossibly long beard rose from the left seat and moved toward her. The 'Dark Angel' followed.

She instinctively moved further back on the bed. The world had not been kind to her and she did not trust those who did display the sentiment so readily. She kept her eyes on both men and her ears open. She also took glances about the room now and again: sizing it up. Sadly, there was only the one door as it was a windowless room. She looked back at the elderly man unable to keep the 'caged animal' look off her face.

"Do not alarm yourself young lady. Severus and I simply want to ask you some questions," he paused. "What is your name?"

She looked about suspicious as ever. "Where am I?" She retorted.

"Merely a secure house, away from the mal intentioned."

She narrowed her eyes, "Who's the mal intentioned?"

The younger man raised an eyebrow at the impertinent girl while the elder simply smiled, displaying a pleasant twinkle to his eyes. "Why my dear, in light of the fact that there's a war in progress, that is a question I attempt quite constantly to discover myself. In name of the endeavour may I have your name."

She looked from one kindly face to the other cynical one and back again pondering her answer. "Daphne Marcus."

Severus knew better. He was an excellent deceptionist himself and a legellimist. Except on the odd occasion that he was clouded by personal prejudice, he could generally tell in an instant when someone wasn't being perfectly truthful. "She is lying sir." She look back to him almost alarmed. "I suggest we administer Veriteserum."

The older man looked pensive at her for a moment before stating, "That won't be necessary Severus. The girl looks quite famished. One does not survive a battle daily after all, and," he turned towards her again, "I am certain you are unreasonably fatigued after your ordeal. Supper shall be brought you, and we may discuss this business on the morrow." He gave her a warm smile and led Severus out by the arm.

As soon as the door was closed on them she shot her hand in her shoe. Fury and frustration gripped her heart as she realized it was empty. They had taken her only chance at some form of independence in this situation. She felt vulnerable and exposed without her fathers knife. It was not just a tool for physical protection, but a talisman of strength to her. It was all she had left: all she had to show for herself, and it was gone. Suddenly, for the first time in eleven years, she inexplicably burst into unstoppable tears. All of her pent up sense of betrayal, hate, frustration, sadness, loneliness, insecurity, lost hopes and dreams poured out of her in torrents. A low feral cry erupted from deep within herself as she pounded the mattress with her fists. After a long good cry that seemed to last forever, she curled up as tightly as she could: bringing her knees up under her chin and hugging them tightly. She drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She awoke some time later to the smell of something wonderful. She raised her head in anticipation and saw something that almost sent her back into a sobbing fit: a meal. She made for the nightstand with speed she had not known she possessed. It was just a small bowl of hot pea soup with cheese and bread, but to her it was a banquet of forbidden satisfaction. She sat for a long while just staring at it: afraid that if she actually reached for it - it would vanish, and she would wake in the alleyway under her dumpster. Indignant tears leaked from her already sore eyes at her pathetic state. She looked down at her hands that were bony and adorned with unhealthy grooves, connected lankily to her elongated forearms. She suddenly realized she hadn't taken a good look at herself for a very long time: always getting away with quick glances in store windows and such. Now she turned to the vanity across the room and saw clearly. She sucked in air at the sight. Feeling like curling up in bed again, she instead made a determined grab for the bowl and shovelled the contents down at a dangerous rate. The novelty and heavenly quenching of the meal was tainted by the bitter lump in her throat. She was unable to finish it because the size of her shrivelled stomach was insufficient to sustain it. She left the remainder of it on its tray and wiped her tears away, determined not to shed them for the next decade. She hadn't listened to very much radio in her life on the streets but one song she did remember, from a supermarket spree which almost landed her in jail, held words she used from time to time when she needed them desperately.

Gonna harden my heart

Gonna swallow my tears

The lyrics went on to discuss a failed love affair, but those were the lines she always remembered, and she repeated them now like a mantra: the poetry and melody of it calming her and eventually bringing her back to her present predicament.

She looked the room over in futility with concerned eyes, and just as she was going to try the door it opened on its own: displaying the same two men of the previous evening. Her glair leaped up of its own accord while she stood and crossed her arms. Her hosts were much the same men they were before: one quite cordial, the other sarcastically suspicious.

"Good morning. Have a lemon drop?" He offered, extending a handful, as if they had all been old friends gathering for a Saturday afternoon chat. "No? Well then, lets begin. Please be seated." Both men sat in the chairs they had previously occupied while the kind one whipped out his stick and motioned it in front of him. Suddenly a cushiony armchair appeared out of thin air completing the trio effect. She was shocked to say the least. She didn't move, making it appear as if she was opting not to cooperate. Severus's characteristic brow raised as it had been doing in accordance with her behaviour since the moment he stumbled upon her. She also raised an eyebrow this time: not in defiance as they thought, but in morbid curiosity of this 'new' unknown she was experiencing. She decided to play along: after all something weird was going on. How else could men go around blasting things, disappearing, and conjuring comfortable armchairs without some insanity to fuel the physics of it. She was proof of that. She took a deep breath and strode to the proffered chair, surprising even herself with her sudden serenity; still regarding them with a look of wariness, however. She wasn't about to let her guard down, even if she didn't think she was in immediate danger. Severus spoke first.

"Now miss, tell us what your real name is."

"Daphne Martin." She had blurted it out before she could even fully register the question. She furrowed her brows in confusion. It had felt so unnatural, as if the laws of freewill had been breeched, and now information about herself had been brought out in the open. She was a very introverted person and hated that most of all.

Severus's lip curled up into a sickening smirk as he continued. "What were you doing in that alleyway evening last?"

"I was just looking for a safe place to sleep." She gritted her teeth and tightened her eyes closed in degradation. When she opened her eyes there was the fire of defiance in them again. The older man looked saddened, which only made her raise her chin higher in an attempt to ward off pity which was something she detested with a passion.

"Are you verifying then, that you have no affiliation with the group known as Death Eaters or their leader the Dark Lord?"

"Yes. I've never even heard of them." At this point she stood abruptly. There was something direly wrong with her. She looked around the room again: avidly searching for a swift exit. Just as she began making determined strides to the door, Severus stood and caught her: effectively barring her way out. He looked on her with baffled eyes as she tore herself out of his grasp and backed away, feeling shivers of apprehension cascade up and down her body. She looked back and forth from one man to the other seeking only to be away from them.

Severus asked one more question, "Are you a witch."

"No!" She was about to hyperventilate again. She needed her father's knife. She needed it now. She began making desperate grabs at her chest feeling the deadly valleys of desperation erode her soul. By this time the blood had completely drained from her face, leaving her looking like the full moon.

The old man stood and cast his stick in a soft sweep in her direction. She was engulfed in darkness once again.

---She was in a high-rise office building, waiting in a grey carpeted sitting room with shockingly green fake tropical plants surrounding her. She had been here many times in the past months. Doctor Chelsic was waiting for her, but she couldn't stand. She couldn't bring herself to rise off of the stuffy little blue couch and walk into the insufferably perfect little office which held all her nightmares just waiting to be walked into. Eventually he came into the waiting room, an impatient chastening look on his face, and extended a stiff beckoning finger.

She stood on shaky knees, her long beige locks falling over her face, as she walked past him with her head down. She kept her bangs long for this reason: she found it much easier to face the world if she could at least hide behind a self produced and permanent shield.

He began talking. Of what she simply could not pay attention to. His mouth moved but all she heard was the ringing of her own ears as she saw the horrors waltzing around him. She found it incredible that he could not see them himself. He just went on with his babble, pleasantly unawares that he was trapped. She saw him: rather different versions of him gathered round the presently speaking Dr. Chelsic. Each had its own desperate message and mission to try to reveal to him, and each was at wits-end in frustration. One took to yelling in his original's ear repeatedly that he was "Tormenting innocent people, you sadist!" Another was crying mumbling something about, "We're all going to hell. He's taking us there fast." Another was sulking with a detested look aimed at his original. It would interject something every now and again, saying that "You could be doing what you always wanted to be doing as a boy, you fool. Instead you got side tracked." There were many more: all a part of Dr. Chelsic, and all quite helpless as he (the man) was a helpless soul himself.

'Talk about the blind leading the blind,' she thought bitterly. She had no choice in being here though. It was her divorcing parents' choice. The nightmares had been dealt with, albeit impatiently and tensely, but when they decided to start going to family counselling is when they really started discovering there was something wrong with her. And when her nightmares started having some basis in fact, after the fact, then is when they started sending her to Dr. Chelsic. He was on the point of committing her. She slipped her hand into her pocket where she had hid the small fishing knife she had taken from her father's camping kit. He wouldn't be happy about it. He was a very organized man and knew where all his things were at all times, but she couldn't help it. She was scared during these visits with Dr. Chelsic: she needed something tangible that reminded her of her father before he became put-out with her oddities. She began breathing harder as Dr. Chelsic began looking angrier and angrier. Then suddenly it happened. She heard the words that she had been dreading for months.

"Miss Johnson! Bring me an order of commitment! Now."

She hyperventilated. They would take her to a small windowless room, regardless of whether she was claustrophobic or not. They would confine her like a prisoner. They would take her father's knife!

That did it. She leaped to her feet, overturning her chair in the process. Dr. Chelsic looked shocked for a moment, but before he could regain his composure she quick footed it to the stairwell, leaving the elevators behind: they were much too slow. She flew down to the first floor and out the glass double doors into a new life.---

She awoke feeling as if someone had poured a few buckets of cold water on her and breathing hard. Eyes wide, she wouldn't have stopped the tears she was so upset, but they wouldn't come. That was a memory she had gone through pains to forget: the day she had officially become a paranoid schizophrenic.

Though her vision was impeded by the sweat hanging from her eyelashes, she could make out someone in the room. It was not the Dark Angel, as she still thought of him, nor was it the kind old man whose name she was still ignorant of. It was a woman. She was short and stout in stature. She rubbed her eyes to get a better look as the lady turned and noticed she was awake.

"Oh, you're awake. How do you feel you dear?" The lady came and put a strong and gentle hand on her shoulder.

Now that she could get a better look, she saw that the lady had red messy hair, blue eyes, and a kind motherly face. She almost relaxed into the comforting atmosphere this appealing creature permeated. Of course she caught herself though, and subtly withdrew her shoulder from the woman's grasp. "I'm fine thanks."

"Not to worry, we'll have you all fixed up in no time. An' put some weight on those poor bones of yours. Here have some breakfast." She handed her a robust meal complete with eggs, sausages and toast.

"Thank you." The novelty of naturally receiving a plate of food upon waking had not worn off, and she reached for it ravenously. She could only eat part of it of course, as her stomach was still unreasonably shrunk.

The kind lady watched her finish off only a quarter of her delectable masterpiece and sighed in disappointment. "We'll have to try again in the afternoon."

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly. I'm so stuffed."

"That's what you say now, but just wait till then."

"What's your name," she asked taking a sip of milk.

The woman smiled kindly, "Molly Weasley. Just Molly dear. And may I call you Daphne?"

She looked a little warily at the wave of familiarity the likes of which she hadn't experienced in years: feeling somewhat drowned by it. "Sure," was her simple answer.

"Such a pretty traditional name. I do wish Arthur and I would have had more girls. I would have loved picking names for them. But we only ended up with Generva, and a whole house full of sons."

She found herself wondering how many sons this nice woman actually had, what her house hold was like with all of them, and having an overwhelming desire to ask, but her second nature won out and she remained silent.

Molly tidied up the room, told her Dumbledore (which was the lacking name of the elderly man with the twinkling eyes) and Severus would be in a little later to speak with her, and finally extricated a promise from her to stay in bed and rest, before she left with the almost full tray of food.

This new development threw her into an overwhelming sense of unsurety. She felt lost. In the last day or so she had changed circumstances as many times as she could remember. She went from her normal way of life, to being thrust in the midst of battle, to being attacked and confined, to being interrogated, to being fed, to being thrown into an emotional upheaval, to being threatened again, and now this: a cozy, warm and loving feeling causing her to wish it could always be this way. Her mental oddities had always been there under the surface, but they had never provided such a glaring world to experience. She had always been sure that she wasn't crazy, and now she doubted that: mainly for wanting to ask a woman how many kids she had. She was confused: not a regular feeling for her. She didn't know where she was, nor whom she was anymore. Many revelations had come for her with these strange occurrences. On reflection however, she supposed that had been her biggest revelation: whom had she become?

Thanks for reading…


	3. Daphne's Warning

Warning: Slight spoilers in this chapter from "Deathly Hallows" (the seventh book). Left ambiguous though. Someone unfamiliar will merely guess at what it means. Shows somewhat hidden side to Snape.

Chapter 3 - Daphne's warning

Later that day, after Molly had forced another tiny meal down her throat, Dumbledore and Severus appeared for the third time. She wondered how this encounter would end and braced herself for unpleasantness. Severus greeted her this time as stoic as ever.

"Good day." He stole a quick glance towards Dumbledore before continuing. "Well, there seems to be a confusion here which you may be able to clear up Miss Martin. You see, as convoluted as this may sound to you, we are not in the same world you come from."

Ah! Some answers at last. She stayed entirely silent: giving Severus her full attention.

"The night you set foot in that alleyway, you mistakenly stepped into… a different plain of sorts. You were no longer in the eastside slum of what we call 'muggle' London: you were in the heart of a place called Diagon Alley. It is a wizarding community. How you slipped through dimensions is a mystery… however, I believe it has something to do with your second sight. You see things as some of our gifted witches do, which thereby qualifies you to be a witch, regardless of how poor your other magical skills are. What escapes me is how you were not noticed by the wizarding world at an earlier age: we should have been able to detect you. Now that you have been detected, you have a choice, as any other muggle born witch would: continue your life as a muggle, or instead emigrate to our world and culture. Be warned. Once here you must be responsible to keep our world as hidden as we've kept it for thousands of years. Any breech of that responsibility could land you in wizarding prison. And believe me, Azkaban is far worse than any muggle prison could possibly be." He gave her a piercing look which she supposed was meant to drive home the point. She was not a child, however, who could be chastened into preventing a naughty action. She may be a lowly eastside animal living in the streets, but she had some small amount of dignity left. She stared him strait back in the eye giving him a steady dignified look in return. He went on.

"Regardless of whether you stay or not, we would like to perform some tests on you," he stated this matter-of-factly before being chastened himself by Dumbledore's reproachful eyes.

"What Severus is trying to say Miss Martin is that you pose quite an interesting existence. We have no-one to compare you with: you are neither muggle, nor do we believe you a witch, though you have wizard qualities. If you would not object, we would be delighted to observe you and make what ever 'harmless' tests which could further our knowledge of your brand of magic."

She looked at them warily for the hundredth time. She was not stupid and knew they could easily do whatever they wished with her, especially since they could do wondrous things that she could not, but then again if she refused and somehow managed to escape them it was back to the eastside slums. However much she hated to admit it, she did find this new existence quite pleasant and intriguing compared to the hopeless nights cramped behind dumpsters and the barren days spent sifting through said dumpsters. After time a beggar usually comes to terms with who he is; she had not. She found such a life morbid and hurtful, and could hardly stand to go on that way. She couldn't stand the thought of being confined by anyone either, but they were showing levels of consideration for her free will, and she wanted to believe she could go on with this enthralling dream. She watched them shrewdly for a moment before answering. "I will stay. But on condition that you let me come or go as I please. I won't be locked up. And you took something of mine the night I came here: I want it back." She almost gave them a glare in her increasingly heated defence.

"Of course Miss Martin." Dumbledore looked to Severus in expectation while the latter produced the sacred trinket from a robe pocket. With a raised brow he artfully handed it to her. She wanted to snatch it from his hand desperately but forced herself to calmly retrieve it. She slipped it in her pocket, not wanting them to know she usually kept it in her shoe. They probably already did since it was they who had taken it, but she still considered it awkward.

It was Dumbledore who continued for fear of Severus's ill success at speaking cordially with their new guest. "Now then, other than our occasional tests, which will involve potions and charms, we must also see to it you get on well in this new world we've brought you to. That is why you will be given a home and all manner of necessity here at this residence until such time as you would wish to bid us farewell. You're willingness to cooperate in our research of your special qualities is worth more than any work or payment you could give of course, thus we will be happy to be your hosts."

She looked skeptical for a moment, for the world not wanting to accept charity, but finally decided that said research was important for the course of science, or whatever they called it here in this world. She had escaped from the clutches of authority once before and could probably do so again if necessary. "Alright. I can assure you I will not burden you. I'm used to taking care of myself and will continue to do so."

"Oh indeed. You obviously have extraordinary success at it."

Dumbledore looked to the floor in tired incredulity at Severus's temerity while Daphne looked as if she had been slapped in the face. That particular subject had understandably been one of her touchy spots, and looking at her expression now Severus realized he had gone too far. He was snarky and sarcastic, but he wasn't truly cruel and he regretted, if only slightly, that he had hit home so hard.

While he was trying to decide how to go on as if nothing had happened she started slipping into her defences. It was true that she had a great gift that the muggle world had failed to understand, but life as a homeless psychotic had had its price. There is after all a fine line between brilliance and lunacy, and occasional breaks from reality were sometimes necessary for someone like her. She began hearing voices: those she didn't feel comfortable with. Unlike the ones that would advise her wisely, these would cloud her with pessimism. They had there uses though. They would fight fire with fire, paying back a sarcastic remark with another. After a long moment of incoherent and head splitting muttering that she new wouldn't stop until she spoke, she gasped out, "Well at least I'd have the courage to take care of those I loved when their lives were being threatened!"

It was Severus's turn to look stricken. His face drained of the little colour it did have as it took on a deadly dangerous look. With one little wave of his wand he could snap her in two if he wanted, and she half expected he would; Dumbledore present or not. "As to that Madam, we all have our little problems don't we. Dumbledore." He nodded and took his leave in a grand billow of robes worthy of a hailstorm.

She felt like the eastside scum she was. How could she have said such a thing? The remark he shot at her was unsubstantial and fleeting compared to what she had done. She had used the information of his past that she had unconsentingly been given against him, and that was despicable. She had done it for selfish reasons. She knew the voices wouldn't stop until she did what they asked, and had done so unthinkingly in search of relief of the headache they induced.

Dumbledore didn't need to use occlumency to see all of her distress and opted to tactfully leave her with her thoughts; as much as he wanted to, he couldn't very well defend Severus anyway. She had only been standing up for herself. "You must presently excuse me Miss Martin, I have important matters to look into. Good day." With that he left her alone: morbid and depressed.

* * *

After a time, she decided to stop sulking and do some exploring. She rose and found the door unlocked as she knew it would be. The halls she entered were dark and had the same black-washed walls the bedroom possessed. It was an eerie place that looked like something out of a haunted house movie. She stole down the stairs out of pure habit, taking each step with care and silence. This was fortunate because she didn't know that not five feet away on the first floor landing was a concealed painting waiting to be awoken so that it might shriek it's pain. Daphne passed untroubled by the impending outburst. She heard Mrs. Weasley clattering about in the kitchen down the hall but didn't feel like approaching such warmth at present when she was in an even more melancholy mood than usual. She turned and went down the dim and dusty vestibules to the left.

She went a ways then stopped when she heard a soft something that sounded all too personal for comfort. It was a quiet whimper: almost a whisper. Barely audible yet startlingly striking, she was drawn to it and yet terrified of it. She gently pushed the door open with such care: as if it was the door who was whimpering. Once inside the elegant room that was evidently a library, she saw a crouched heap sitting by the fire. Bent over and crying into his hands was Severus. He looked so tragically lost to all sense of comfort she felt the prickle and sting of her own tears but refused to let them fall.

She had learned that words in this world meant nothing, and that the only way to atone for a wrong action was to show your repentance: not make professions. Saying 'sorry' would be futile and lessen his respect for her.

"You did all you could."

He jerked his head up: amazed that he hadn't heard her come in. "Come to finish the job?" He asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow and curling his lip in careless indifference. The effect was somewhat ruined by his swollen red eyes.

"What I meant to say was that courage had nothing to do with what happened. In the end 'you' had nothing to do with what happened."

"If you'll excuse me Miss Martin." He stood to leave the room.

"…and if you ask me, I think its unforgivable that you have been pushed into service by obligation to atone."

"What you think or do not think matters not to me. Tell your tale to some other poor fool who will listen."

"Just one thing Snape: you agree I have the gift of second sight. Then you'll believe me when I warn you against something. Don't think on 'her' when you are in the battle. Hesitation is your worst enemy in that situation. Forget feelings as you always have and it may just save your life."

"Thank you for the heartfelt advice, but I…"

He never got to finish his sentence. At that moment Remus Lupin came bursting in and bluntly interrupted, "Severus! We are needed at Chestshire, Lancaster immediately. One of the safe houses is being attacked!"

Severus turned to rush from the room when his arm was caught by the annoying girl. "Remember what I told you Severus. The mysterious woman you will encounter is not her." She said this with such intensity that Severus was forced to pause. In that fraction of an instant as their eyes were locked one of those rare and precious human connections was made. It was not romantic nor was it affectionate. It was a meeting of the minds if you will: an understanding between two souls sharing a horrid existence. He saw great depth in her eyes. It was not only for him, but for many things and people unsaid, and Severus tore himself away feeling an immense strength as well as an immense forbidding. The sky was open for anything indeed: be it good or bad. For him. For Miss Martin. For the wizarding world at large…

As always, Thanks for reading...


	4. A New Life

Special Thanks to my Beta, Moonlight Wanderer 313

Chapter 4 - A New Life

The battle had been terrible. One of the fiercest yet in the latest and unrecognized war. The order had lost fifteen members and had over two dozen wounded. Severus returned with only a minor injury to the arm. He had had it hardest. His lot had been to appear as if he was working against the order, when in reality he was finding every opportunity to use 'friendly fire' on the Death Eaters.

As soon as he entered headquarters his eyes searched for his saviour. She was not immediately present. He was somewhat encumbered by Molly's fussing over his arm as she forced him into a chair at the kitchen table to receive her experienced and skilled attention. Being the mother of six boys, especially the twins, she'd become very good at magical remedies.

As he sat there wincing at Molly's ministrations and wand movements he pondered what exactly had happened. He had been in the middle of the battle shooting minor useless spells at Order members and "missing" them with the big ones, when a newly recruited fellow Death Eater, a woman, was thrown to the ground at his feet. She had seen what he was doing and known what he was about. Thus she had planned to fire at him, but as she was taking aim she had been blasted, falling fatefully at her target's feet. Severus had a clear shot at the only Death Eater who had seen through his façade. But as she fell, her mask had slipped loose and shown her brilliant green eyes. Those eyes looked too painfully familiar: reminding him of other eyes in another face. Uncharacteristically, this threw him into a tumult of emotions: were those the ghost of eyes not forgotten in his dreams? Was this a hallucination? Was 'she' truly here? He began to hesitate when suddenly words he'd heard not an hour before flashed through his mind:

'Don't think on her when you are in the battle'

'Hesitation is your worst enemy'

The slight hesitation he had already allowed himself nearly got him killed, leaving a gash through his arm, but those words had recovered him just in time. He performed a well maneuvered dodge and struck the offender dead. He spared her one last glance in distaste and regret before carrying on valiantly: not giving way to hesitation again.

The safe house was unrecognizable once all was over: it's tattered remains smeared on the horizon. He helped rescue the survivors, patch up those too ailed to apparate and put to rest those who had fallen: including the 'mysterious woman' who had only been another foe in disguise. Over her grave he gave thanks to the gods for throwing in his path a shining light, albeit annoying one, when he most needed it.

He was not angry with Miss Martin anymore: how could he be? She had willingly saved his life twice, even if the first time had been unnecessary. All he felt for her now was curiosity. What kind of person would act as she had done? She was temperamental and impulsive which were qualities he loathed, but she had not shown weakness even in her regret and she had done the right thing despite her anger towards him which were actions he admired. He couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the skeletal nothing of a girl; woman. She was unique and he harboured no ill will towards her. He found himself filing his regard and resolving not to treat her as a pestilent child again. She had earned a higher consideration.

Because of the temporary chaos at Grimmauld Place there wasn't much time to be anything but stoic with everyone, and when she finally did make an appearance from one of the many makeshift medical wards scattered about the house, it was only for a few bites at the dinner table and an immediate retreat back to her charge's bedside. Her lack of seeking to be thanked by him confirmed his new found respect for her as a worthwhile person, and he left that day a silent ally of the new witch of Grimmauld Place.

* * *

During the next few days Daphne found herself lost in hectic busyness. With all the wounded who could not or would not go to St. Mungo's, she and Mrs. Weasley had their hands quite full. The master of the house, Sirius Black, had objected on the grounds that she was too slight and frail herself to care for the sick, and a guest no less, but she steadily declined his offers to take over her duties. This was her present place of residence, and she finally felt worth something. She was helping a cause: helping people. She didn't even have the time or interest to think about herself. For the first time in years she felt truly alive.

Sirius was cause for daily happiness as well. He seemed so delighted to have her as his guest. From what she understood, he had to spend his life locked up in these dreary halls day and night because he was wanted by both sides of the 'war' that was waging. She had the greatest compassion for his situation. That was her most dreaded thought: to be imprisoned, by asylum workers, jailers, wizards, or merely life's situation. She knew she would go mad if she was presently in Sirius's shoes, and having to be alone through it all was even worse. Now, however, he at least had someone to host which put him in a very good humour.

When they were not attending to the injured, Sirius would go on and on about all the wonderful new things she would encounter in this new world she had discovered. A fair amount of flirting was poured on as well which she would always tactfully smile at then move past. Oh Serious wasn't truly in love nor was he interested in a relationship with her: he was only thrilled at having another child in the playground. He liked her steady serenity which contrasted so sharply with his own excitement crazed nature and he respected her for her generosity and difficulties in life.

His enthusiasm commanded an instant intimacy which was pleasant and comforting to her. She was not one to be jolly and friendly of course, but she enjoyed his friendship: quietly observing while he would jump round enthralled by telling an entertaining story. He would even get her to laugh now and again. This was always fallowed by an encore in hopes that he could make her laugh again.

* * *

Soon enough all the injured were healed and on their way. This meant that dear Mrs. Weasley returned to her home, and headquarters was again scarce of bustle and the family like group that had co-existed there during emergency. Her 'tests' were again the main task to look into. Severus taught at a school, there for they had to wait until the odd convenient weekend when both he and Dumbledore were free. That weekend had come, and she awaited their arrival with slight nervousness.

"Now don't worry love. They'll just do a little 'hocus-pocus' on you and think themselves masters of your physiology in no time, thus leaving you alone to your own devices."

This way of looking at it made her smirk. She had been contemplating finally knowing who and what she was - Sirius only succeeded in furthering her doubt. "I wonder if anyone, including myself, will ever be master of my physiology."

"Does it really matter?" Was his seemingly light hearted yet deep answer. "Come on. Lets get a little more of a head start on those boffins." He pulled out his wand and offered it, mischievous anticipation written all over his face.

She gave him an affectionate smile and took the wand. They had been secretly practicing magic on their own. It turns out she wasn't totally devoid of the other skills standard to a witch. It seemed however that a wand was entirely useless to her, only serving to awaken her un-practiced 'wandless' abilities which were unstable and random. She gave it a wave thinking hard on the chair she meant to levitate. Instead it was turned over and slid across the floor, as if a magnet had attempted to suck it beneath the floor.

"Tsp, tsp, tsp. Well I guess all you have to do is try the exact opposite of what you want and you'll be a dab hand at it."

She started to laugh when the front door was opened and her formal teachers entered. She quickly handed Sirius back his wand while he grabbed for it and hid it behind his back. The both of them acting as two disobedient children would. They looked towards the door with falsely welcoming smiles spread across their faces: their deviousness not lost on the two arriving gentlemen.

Severus raised an eyebrow while Dumbledore gave them a twinkling smile. "I see you two have gotten to know each other quite well. And we would not object to knowing what you've already found out of Miss Martin's condition."

Disappointment permeating from him, Sirius looked as if all the fun had just been taken right out of his favourite pass time. "Well," he looked towards his accomplice in crime, "she seems to be able to do wandless magic, but its unstable."

"Indeed. Well Miss Martin, shall we begin?" Severus gave Sirius a look that plainly belittled what he had discovered of her as useless and irrelevant before beckoning Daphne and Dumbledore into the library, pointedly closing the door before Sirius could fallow. 'No matter,' Serious grumblingly thought. 'I'll find out later anyway.'

Once in the library, Severus took the investigation in a different direction. "Potions, Miss Martin, is an art you will soon find indispensable. We will begin with a medium called 'nettoyer.' Discovered by the French, what it does is 'clean' any potion of impurities or excesses. If administer to a person in its purest form, it has been recorded to clear the mind of all confusion and distraction." He extracted a small vial from his pocket and handed it to her. "After you've ingested this small dose, I will attempt to invade your mind and discover any differences your higher brain functions may possess. Are you ready?"

She nodded and took the potions ingredient. It was bitter and raw tasting. The second it touched her lips she could feel an odd cooling sensation course through her. She felt as if some microscopic vacuum was sucking away at every pour and artery. It left every inch of her feeling cleansed and tingly. She shuddered slightly at the instant therapy, only to be tensed into stillness by a soft pushing at the front of what she could only describe as her mind. It was not physical, but there was definitely something pressing against her head trying to gain entry. Having only slight resistance from her involuntary tensing it eventually did. She was unable to look away from Severus's oblique and hypnotic black eyes as she felt that something going through all the memories, feelings, and sensations she'd ever had. After a few moments of this somewhat uncomfortable experience she felt suddenly empty: the odd something inexplicably disappeared. When she was able to get her bearings she saw that Severus was no longer looking into her eyes, but towards Dumbledore with an odd expression on his face.

She looked back and forth from one gentleman to the other, giving each a questioning look.

"Well, there is something different about you. Its almost as if your magic possesses a different genetic structure: one I've not yet encountered."

"Maybe you just haven't noticed it in others until now," she suggested helpfully.

Severus shook his head pensively. "There are only so many fundamentals Miss Martin, fundamentals a potions master such as myself must study extensively. You seem to harbour an entirely 'new' type of magic… or perhaps a very old type." He added as an after thought.

"What are you thinking Severus?" Asked Dumbledore.

"I don't know… I'll have to do further study on the matter to be certain. You both must excuse me." With that he turned purposefully towards the door. He turned back when he reached it. "Good day Miss Martin. Dumbledore." He was gone.

"Ah, Severus, always so serious in his missions. You'll have to forgive my young friend Miss Martin. Exterior shows put aside, he really is quite an enthusiast." He rose giving her a warm smile. "Now I must take my leave and be sure he will not be drowned in said study. Please be good enough to bid farewell to Mr. Black on my behalf." He nodded to her and also walked out leaving Daphne in utter bewilderment.

* * *

"But what exactly did he say?" Sirius hadn't stopped pestering her about her 'check up' all evening. As a result dinner had turned into a tiring interview.

"He said my magic has a genetic structure he's never seen before. Then he said something about it possibly being very old magic, and hurried away before even Dumbledore could get it out of him." She took a large sloppy mouthful of the linguini dinner he had made both of them to prevent an immediate follow up on that sentence.

Sirius rubbed his goatee thoughtfully. "Hmm, the only 'old' magic I've ever heard of are the old spells and curses left behind by the extinct Norsemen tribes of Nordaustlandet." At her inquisitive expression he elaborated. "Nordaustlandet, is the highest little island before you hit the North Pole. It was from there that Dumbledore got that old binding charm for James and Lily's protection. But its become an out post for muggle Norway's walrus researchers. All the wizards were wiped out by a magical plague and frost hundreds of years ago. There's no way you could have wizarding blood from there running through your veins: its impossible." He leaned back in his chair absentmindedly chewing on his inner lip. "Are you absolutely sure you're the first witch in your family? I know you were only thirteen when you ran away, but can you remember anything odd about any member of even your distant relatives? Anything at all?"

She raised her eyebrows and shook her head, "No. We were even a little too normal for my taste. We never did anything out of the ordinary, except for my father's love of fishing." She was quiet for a while, reflecting on her old life. After a moment he spoke again. Daphne gave a mirthless smirk at Sirius's next painfully accurate remark, having gotten to esteem both the critic and the criticized.

"Well either 'Snivellus' is insane: which I'm not excluding as a possibility, or you some how may be a throwback. If your family has any connection to Nordaustlandet, even a muggle connection, just maybe you inherited centuries old qualities from its people. It would be far fetched though, seeing as how it hasn't had a stable community in something like four or five hundred years. That's the only way I can rationalize the 'old magic' theory." He gave her a sly grin and continued, "or you could just be a freak of nature."

She grinned back as she thought of suitable payback for herself and the tormented Dark Angel (the more she saw into the man the more that description fit). She squeezed her eyes shut making Sirius's plate snap up and catapult his food all over his chest. He looked down at himself in surprise then back up at her smiling face. "And just how did you pull off that tasteful piece of magic?"

"I just thought of doing the 'exact opposite.'" She said cheekily.

"Well." He rolled up his sleeves and gracefully drew his wand.

Her eyes widened and she shrieked as the jug of pumpkin juice emptied on her head. That was it: the war was on. They enjoyed a spectacular food fight for the next forty five minutes until it was time to retire, forcing them to clean up the mess.

Author's Note: Hope you liked it. Just thought every one would be interested to know that Nordaustlandet really is an uninhabited island in Norwegian territory on the outskirts of the North Pole. I think its fascinating to lace fact with fiction. Thanks for reading…


	5. Politics and Feelings

Special thanks to my beta: Moonlight Wanderer 313

Chapter 5 - Politics and Feelings

Severus had remained studying well into the night. He found Daphne's state of magic fascinating and would not stop until he discovered what exactly her category was. He had an extensive library both in his own private rooms at Hogwarts as well as the one open for public use there. He studied Nordaustlandet peoples as well as Spitsbergen tribes and even some old Finland cultures dating back to the BCs. He knew it was impossible for her to actually have the blood of 'old magic' running through her veins, but he somehow knew he was pointed in the right direction: it was an irrefutable feeling.

He was usually quite an organized and careful student to all his studies: treating his texts and supplies with great respect, but he had gotten frustrated tonight due to his fatigue induced grogginess, and so snatched at an old book impatiently. It snapped back and shut in protest. He rolled his eyes and attempted to open it again, this time gently, but sadly it wouldn't budge. It refused to be opened by his hand, stubbornly taxing its proprietor with boycott. He gave an irritated growl and looked at it's title. "Nomads and Gypsies of Old: the Very Foundations of Stable Magic." He rose to go seek a second copy on the fourth floor library, six impossible floors above his exhausted limbs.

He began his journey up the old time worn steps he had traversed as a boy almost thirty years before, cursing his deplorably snarky personality for the trouble it had occasioned: both then and now. As he glided along, simply refusing to display his tiredness even while alone, he heard the creeping sounds of trouble brewing.

Beyond his vision, around the corner and down the corridor, were two people central to the troubles of Hogwarts at present.

"I want results Filch."

"Certainly ma'am." He bent his head as if speaking to a queen.

"I want that boy down this corridor in one half an hour, and I don't want any mistakes."

"Here's where he'll be ma'am."

"Good." She took stubby and brisk steps away towards her office while Filch lingered mumbling to himself about his task.

"Hmm, Potter… one half an hour…"

Snape had heard the whole thing, and he had no intention of letting what ever they had planned happen. He backed away into the shadows, utilizing the extraordinary blockade running skills that had kept him alive for years: entirely forgetting, of course, his exhaustion of only a few moments before.

Filch began making his way toward Gryffindor tower slowly, courtesy of the rheumatism which always escorted him about.

Snape followed, gracefully ducking in and out of shadows as if he himself was one. When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Filch gave the stolen pass word which admitted him with no further ado. Snape was forced to disillusion himself to follow. Once inside, Filch proceeded warily as if apprehensive of treading in a forbidden place. Snape was momentarily reminded of his schoolboy days: when Lucius would drag him along as he stole through the girls' bathroom in search of the more innocent mischief they sometimes indulged in. His musings were cut short by the wheezing fellow before him who suddenly burst in an uncontrollable coughing attack. He rolled his eyes at the poor man: he would never have made a decent spy. Growing tired of witnessing this pathetic excuse for a mission, he finally decided to end the charade. With one deft swish of his wand, Filch was pleasantly unconscious : resting away his physical troubles on the Gryffindor common room hearth rug. With a hearty shake of the head, Snape levitated the sleeping janitor out of the common room and back to his dingy little office which had always reminded him suspiciously of a broom cupboard. He did believe that it really had been one, at one time. He left Filch sleeping in his uncomfortable chair, which Snape personally thought was half his joint trouble, and left to go spy on the corridor Umbridge would no doubt expect Potter to fall victim to in approximately ten minutes. 'And he probably would,' thought Severus viciously.

He waited, wand drawn, while the hallway torch light flickered on. In exactly ten minutes it happened, all too fast. Draco, whom was enlisted in the inquisitorial squad, slinked into the corridor only to be engulfed by a large black cloud of magically induced mist which had appeared simultaneously with his arrival. Snape couldn't believe what he was seeing. That spell was one of the darkest he had come to know as a result of years of service as a Death Eater: he couldn't believe that Umbridge would employ such means in a school setting. Anything could go wrong and jeopardize her target. Which it had: the wrong boy had been hit. Flying immediately into action he came forth and intercepted the curse, risking life and limb in the process. The mist reseeded in the face of his powerful anti-charm. What was left in it's wake was a moaning Malfoy sprawled at odd angles about the floor. Umbridge came rushing down the corridor in a fierce fighting stance with her wand drawn, a righteous look on her face, seemingly ready to 'defend' Hogwarts' safety. Severus blanched at the spectacle she made, and gave her a grave glare. Her stupidity and prejudice had caused his annoying godson possible irreparable damage. She had her shocked look ready, but it slipped when she saw the wrong person crouched on the floor above the wounded student. She did a double-take and looked about quickly as if asserting no one else was present before turning to Snape with a worried look.

"Snape! What happened? Who did it? The Awefundhiem spell, I mean?"

Severus felt like telling her she needed to improve her substandard plotting skills, that it was painfully obvious that she had orchestrated the whole business, and that he was even more disgusted with her for realizing that Draco was meant to be injured in the process. He may be a little social wart and an idiot boy, but he didn't deserve to be killed by someone he considered to be an ally merely to get Potter expelled. He stood to face her off, "The attack was prearranged so as to omit the presence of the perpetrator. Now if you will excuse me Professor, I believe getting my godson to the hospital wing gives priority over finding the culprit. Do not you agree?" Turning to retrieve the strewn boy he left her with a gaping mouth, wondering how on earth Potter had escaped her this time.

Snape was furious. Once Draco was as safe as he could possibly be in his present state, he sent an owl off to his parents straight away, then billowed his way to the headmaster's office for a little chat. This whole business was ludicrously unnecessary and taxing. He bitterly thought of the number of things he would prefer to be doing at the moment rather than trudging up to Dumbledore to report Umbridge's offence.

"That witch is entirely out of control Albus!"

Dumbledore wore a pained expression as he reclined further into his chair in thought. "You are correct of course. As much as I knew her scruples were sparse, I admit I underestimated her hatred for Harry. She cannot be underestimated again. We must keep a close watch on her Severus. Young Mr. Malfoy was very fortunate tonight that you were present. He may not be among us if you hadn't been." Dumbledore gave him the kind of stare he knew came with an assignment.

"You don't need to ask it Albus." He raised a brow in irony, "I would observe her closer than she imagines even without your direction. She truly has no idea what she got herself into when she threatened the only formal family I have left." With that he gave a swift nod and showed himself to the door: he was very tired and had only just enough time to wash and prepare for classes before breakfast arrived in the Great Hall.

* * *

Daphne had not spoken to Severus or Dumbledore since her 'check-up' three weeks before. What she came to know as an 'Order Meeting' took place in the interim, but both he and Dumbledore had been all too bombarded with war business to give more than a considerate greeting, then a considerate farewell to her before leaving. She had only Sirius's speculations and jokes to rely on to pacify what was becoming an obsessive need to know her medical diagnosis. Sirius kept telling her that it Did. Not. Matter. She would still be the same woman she was regardless of whether her DNA strands contained X amount of chromosomes or not, but she couldn't help it. She had always felt some what the 'freak' as Sirius so eloquently put it that first night, and she just wanted to know. "Blast it all with this incessant wondering!" She finally exploded one evening.

Sirius smirked and started the cooling process he had come to love in his previously lonely household. "Now, now, dear Daphne. Such language doesn't become such a becoming young lady as yourself. Now me, that's a different story. I do hope I'm not rubbing off on you." He gave the kind of grin that plainly stated he loved the idea she was picking up bad habits from him.

She rolled her eyes at him and just continued pacing. "Why doesn't Severus just owl me? He could have the courtesy to just say, 'I don't know.' He must know I'm going mad here trying to imagine what he may or may not be figuring out!"

"Oye!" Sirius put on a falsely hurt expression and clutched his heart dramatically, "Since when are you on first name basis with the Grease Git? Daphne! I'm deeply wounded. This is nothing short of betrayal!"

"Cut it out." She huffed as she surrendered her outrage in the form of an exaggerated plop into the comfy fireside couch.

Sirius good humouredly took up residence next to her on said couch throwing an arm around her shoulders in a friendly endearment. "Don't worry Daph. I'll help you master your magic, be it primate chromosomed or not."

She gave a hearty laugh. "You just get more clever about it by the day don't you?"

"What would be the fun in life without a little cheek?"

"Apparently none by your standards." She said it in good humour at his care free attitude.

He smiled, genuinely happy he was able to cheer her up. "Come on, I'm starved. Lets go have a cooking contest. Gods know I'd rather throw up than try to eat anything Kreacher would cook." He leaped up, determined to keep her in a good mood. "I'll even wear one of those ridiculous little aprons you females seem to think necessary."

"Oh Sirius. Please don't think Molly's perfect standard of house keeping is the common state among all women."

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "So I am rubbing off on you! Oh, beautiful." He dodged the pillow meant for his head and hurried off towards the kitchen.

She allowed herself a warm smile in the face of the family type of affection Sirius represented to her. She suddenly realized how long it had been since she had allowed herself to love anyone in anyway. Her family circle hadn't ever been very welcoming or forgiving even before it's derision towards her mental freakishness. Her father had been her only true childhood love and support, before the family blow-out. After that he'd become distant with her: putting himself and his love just out of reach of her extending desperate grasp, and she had had no-one. Her posture had even suffered from such an emotional deficiency: indenting her chest and drooping her shoulders in a permanent hunch from the number of times she had hugged herself to sleep in insecurity. This new world she had discovered yielded so much meaning to her. Sirius and his exciting and supportive personality: offering to her his home as would a brother. There was motherly Molly and her cordial husband Arthur. Dumbledore who genuinely cared for those around him: seeming to radiate security and leadership. There were all the un-expendably unique individuals like McGonagall with her sturdy rigidness and unmovable integrity. There was Kingsley who was helpful and observant with that wry sense of humour that always seemed to pop up when most needed. Moody with his ridiculous suspicion yet extraordinary intelligence and talent. Lupin with his quiet thoughtfulness and sensibility. Tonks with her wicked style and childlike manner. Even Mundugus and his outrageous slummy deportment. A hundred other faces and personalities necessary for the Order to pivot smoothly on it's axis: all endearing and important to her. And Severus. After all the insight into him she'd seen, he held a special place in her esteem. He was the silent strength of the place: the one everyone wondered about and depended on more than they could possibly imagine. He held the weight of the war on his shoulders coolly; with no resentments towards those he had a right to reproach. He sometimes reminded her of Atlas, patiently supporting the world for it's own sake with no benefit to himself.

All this sentimentality almost brought tears to her eyes again before she heard Sirius's dear shouts from beyond her veil of sad remembrances and reflections, bringing her back to normality. 'Characteristic,' she thought. She smiled again, both in happiness and worry of the dangers to come for all of them. She hadn't even tried to let her mind slip into that high powered perception for fear of what she might see; though she doubted she would see anything, because she knew herself. She knew her defences would be in full vigour now: blocking her from hurting over what most probably would happen to those she loved. Life had taken everything else away from her up to date, why wouldn't it continue doing so? She wiped quickly at her presently unknowing eyes before getting up, putting a cheerful mask on and making her way to the kitchen.

* * *

After dinner Sirius informed her that he would be flooing his godson that evening. He said this with sparkles in his eyes. His excitement was palpable.

"You have a godson?" She asked curiously.

Sirius looked floored. "You…" he paused, realization flooding him. "You wouldn't know would you. Well you've heard me speak of James and Lily plenty: the parents of 'the-boy-who-lived,' and my best friends from school. Well it just so happens, that before I was imprisoned for murdering them (he gave a brief indignant scowl then snapped out of it and continued), they asked me to be Harry's godfather." His face spread into the smuggest smile she'd ever seen on any man. "Daph, he's James all over again, and I'd say even a might more talented."

She smiled at his fatherly pride. But before she could drift off into indignation at her own folks' lack of such obvious support and love, he continued.

"He's in his fifth year at Hogwarts, and he's already been in more trouble than the lot of us ever were put together." He looked ecstatic.

She shook her head and chuckled. "That would be the fact your most proud of."

He grinned and winked before turning to the fire place. "I'll be held up most of the evening checking to see if the coast is clear. I don't mind if you wait with me. It's really too bad we can't both stick our heads through: I'd like you to meet him." He suddenly got a manic look as his eyes crawled back to look at her again…

"Oh no. Don't even think about it. First of all, I'm claustrophobic, and second of all it's dangerous. The floo isn't meant for two at once: we could have an accident."

He looked somewhat disappointed, "Oh Daphne, always the sensible one…" She smiled indulgently as he shook his head and began his floo try outs. They spent a good three hours chatting while he stuck his head into the creepy green flames every now and again. It was well after midnight when he finally didn't come up from his crouching position. Instead he shoved the thumb of his right hand in the air in triumph and she smirked at the image he made.

She waited patiently drinking slightly fermented butterbeer while he had a good chat. She couldn't hear what was being said on the other side: that was the funny thing about floo. Only the traveller could experience both sides at once as both the recipients of the call and the ones left behind remained in the dark; unless of course the traveller chose to step all the way through. For this reason she was mindful to keep quiet and make no distractions: she understood the meaning of quality time.

Suddenly her brow furrowed in worry as she saw Sirius's body twitch oddly. Despite all those years in Azkaban, he was a very healthy wizard and had full control of his faculties. "Sirius?" He didn't move. "Sirius!" She was at his side immediately. With a hand at his back she began verbally coaxing him from the fire before finally just yanking him back when he was completely unresponsive, praying that she wasn't hurting him in any way. He came out gasping and in a cold sweat, keeping his eyes on the fire as if it was a traitorous menace. "What happened Sirius?" She asked concerned.

"I don't know. I think some-one intercepted our connection," he said giving his chest a few sound punches and coughing up a bit of ash.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He coughed once more then turned towards her with a pensive look. "It must have been that beast Umbridge."

"Who's that, a ministry official?"

"A ministry 'spy.' And not a very good one I might add, if Snivellus's account is anything to go by (Daphne pursed her lips in annoyance). Anyway, she's Harry's new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher, and she's teaching them all to be good little puppies who lap up everything they read in their text books." Sirius looked horrified at the thought. He shuddered and went on, "She's not even letting them use magic 'cause the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, thinks Dumbledore's trying to overthrow the government. Fudge believes he's forming his own private army at Hogwarts, which makes life a living hell for Harry because everyone knows he's Dumbledore's favourite."

She looked to the floor, taking in this disturbing information. "So now she's tracking the floo network?"

"Apparently," Sirius affirmed. "She's already got all the mail going in and out censored. Before you know it, she'll be doing regular rounds on all the students' belongings."

"But she isn't the Headmistress. How is it she has all this power?"

"The ministry's cracking down very hard on Hogwarts: instituting new requirements and policies. They've named her 'High Inquisitor'… what ever the devil that means… Basically, she's been given powers the Headmaster doesn't have. They're also working on trumping up charges on Dumbledore so they can have him arrested. I expect they're planning on naming her Headmistress soon enough."

"Politics." She drawled out with distaste.

"Yup."

"Well, how are they doing?" She asked as she finally came back to her senses and helped him stand.

He accepted her help gratefully and answered with enthusiasm. "Taking it in stride," he almost sing-songed out. "Harry's organized an illegal defence group so that he and his friends won't be clueless little twits when the uprising finally presents itself." Sirius's chest expanded with pride.

She smiled wryly. "He certainly does seem to be his godfather's godson."

He looked amused. "You wouldn't say that if you had known James. But yes, he certainly displays his roots quite plainly."

Before Sirius could explode with arrogant pride she suggested he get some rest because he was still a little shaky and it was late. He only agreed reluctantly and after another half hour's bragging.

* * *

The next day dawned with a Daphne in a good mood, which was indeed an oddity. She felt like a walk in the open air. Leaving Sirius behind in the glumly dark house would be a pain in her heart, but she was getting truly restless for the kind of peaceful saunter she used to take in her school days through the park. She resolved on taking her walk in the wee hours and being back before seven o'clock. Sirius never came down before his morning tea which was regularly at eight.

Molly had told her of the complex 'Secret Keeper' charm which Sirius had said was used for the Potters' protection. She had said it was also used for the protection of Headquarters. Apparently since Dumbledore had informed Daphne of the address, she would only have to come to that street and think of it for the charm to reveal the house. Thus she wasn't worried about being lost, only that she wouldn't return before Serious caught wind of her little excursion. She slipped on a quick coat over her night shirt and grabbed one of Sirius's large old silver pocket watches, with the Black family crest on it, off the hallway bureau before stealing out the front door into the pre-dawn twilight.

It was wonderful. She walked along wishing she could be barefoot to experience 'Mother Night's' cold embrace about her heels. She knew it would be madness since it was the beginning of December and no time to catch cold, but she simply loved the feel of freedom: true freedom. She needn't fret for food nor warmth anymore, and yet she could walk down the street in the dark anyway with no worries of being sent to a mad confinement by those she supposedly trusted. Sirius might throw a fit or send out a search party for her, but not to confine her, just to assure himself that she was safe. It was a wonderful feeling and she embraced herself out of happiness as she continued to walk along London's muggle streets.

Then the bubble popped. She heard a dark noise somewhere behind her. It was the evidence of someone's perambulation travelling steadily in pace with her own. She stopped discretely to observe something in the gutter and noted that the footsteps also stopped. She pursed her lips in annoyance at the villain for interrupting her pleasant walk. She continued though playing out her usual course of action on such occasions. She walked in and about all the odd little streets in a wayward pattern so as to confirm it was a stalker. When she was sure that it was, she suddenly turned as quick as a cat and hurled her father's pocket knife in the direction she knew the man was.

Instead of seeing it dodged or blocked however, she saw it slow drastically in mid hurl. It became encased in a sort of orb which was clearly magical. 'Oh bloody hell,' she thought. She could handle the common drug inebriated idiot on the streets no-a-days: she could not handle a wizard. Snape had proved that. Her heart rate began increasing in speed as she saw the void melt away to reveal black dragon hide boots, long black robes, an outstretched black wand, and none other than… Severus's countenance? She blinked in surprise.

"I was under the impression Miss Martin, when I returned this to you," he had caught the knife and held it up, "that it was with the understanding that you would refrain from using it against any of the Order." He smirked at her open mouthed shock, she looked like a fish out of water. He came towards her and handed it back to her. She took it and closed her mouth, then opened it again.

"What are you doing in muggle London?"

He gave her a frown that spoke doubt. "You don't know?"

She looked at him shrewdly narrowing her eyes, "You mean you're following me?" She said it in an accusing tone as she followed him with her eyes while he turned into step with her.

"Come now, you didn't really think we would let you walk about unguarded?" He raised a brow at her as they continued walking. "You Miss Martin are the latest magical mystery in the wizarding world worthy of investigation. There is an unspoken war waging at the moment. And the leader of the enemy side seems to be highly fascinated with new magical discoveries and explorations. Forgive me, but a muggle fishing knife is somewhat insufficient, do not you agree?" There was a pause, "It was a tracking spell," he finished.

She looked defeated. Now that he said it, in that maddening sarcastic tone of his, it did sound stupid. She let out a sigh and looked up, "Well you have to admit, I am quite used to walking the streets on my own. This was my home for eleven years!" She said it with her arms spread wide to encompass the streets at large.

He only looked her up and down with raised brows and continued walking.

She was frustrated. How dare he treat her as a child. She was a woman: one whom had reared herself and had handled herself when no one else would or could. She raised her head high and stubbornly turned her nose away from the annoying man. She respected him, but she wouldn't give in to him.

Unbeknownst to her turned head, he almost smiled at her obvious indignation. She didn't like being treated like a child, and yet, she acted like one. That was her oddity which he couldn't quite comprehend, and didn't quite like. She was like two people in one body: one the emotionally deep unfathomable wise woman who could knock a man out with one sentence, then there was this silly immature child quite akin to most other dunderhead children he ran across at Hogwarts.

What he failed to recognize was that most people were this way. Most people have many levels of consciousness ready to leap out and take control. Merely because he was the kind of man who had but one face to present to the world, while hiding away all that hurt and sensitivity in his hidden heart, didn't mean everyone did so. She handled her hurt quite differently than he did. But she had hurt, which was partly why he identified with her.

They walked along in companionable silence. Eventually she forgot her frustration towards him and became tranquil and content with the moment. She breathed deep closing her eyes on occasion to feel the winter breeze chill her cheeks. It wasn't snowing yet, just fogging London in a very surreal way which she found enchanting.

Severus observed her peace and enjoyment. He looked at it with wonder. How could she enjoy the moment so thoroughly with absolutely no other thoughts at hand? He had never been able to do this. During childhood it was his parents problems and his own depression which clouded his moments. During high school it was fairly the same with a little heartbreak added in, and during manhood it was all Death Eaters vs. Order Members. The war had become his whole world and purpose. Even during those years when the Dark Lord seemed to be vanquished he was haunted with images of the things he had done and the things which had been done: things he was part of. There had been that one good thing in his life, but it had been taken away. Looking at her innocent eyes wide with pleasure in the moment almost irritated him. He caught himself about to snap at her for being a dunderhead. No. She was not one of his students, and she was not a child. Being agitated at the thought that she would one day learn that such innocent pleasure was futile didn't give him the right to reproach her. He held his tongue and walked with her in quiet propriety.

After a few moments she finally asked, "So, what is so worthy of investigation?" She took side long glances at him.

"I am still in the process of studying on it, but I do have a theory." She looked intrigued. "I will explain it fully this Saturday (she looked both surprised and pleased that a research meeting was happening again soon) but essentially what I believe is that you possess a strain of magic which has not been in existence since early on in the medieval era."

She pondered this a moment. "But how could that be possible?"

"I'm not sure. I'll have to do further tests to ascertain that that is in fact the case."

She was quiet for a moment taking in this notion. "But if that's the case, why wouldn't I be able to control it with a wand the way you do? I'm sure there were wand bearers at that time in history."

"Indeed there were. Such a problem could be caused by a number of reasons however. There are some wizards and witches who's magic is affected by a blocking condition resulting from personal abuse early in life." As much as he knew formal deportment dictated him to be tactful about such a sensitive subject, he had never been too concerned with people-skills and preferred blunt honesty to tactful unsurety. He gave her a questioning look which wasn't cruel or sarcastic, just insistent.

Her eyes widened as she looked somewhat embarrassed.

He had his answer. Looking away trying to rescue the moment, he continued, "Of course there are other reasons. All of which we will thoroughly discuss on Saturday." He straightened and walked on.

She was almost left behind as she momentarily was struck dumb by that little exchange. She recovered however and hurried her steps to keep pace with him. She gulped to calm herself and affected a falsely indifferent face thoroughly unable to enjoy her surroundings now.

Somehow this calmed him more. The fact that she wasn't stupidly smiling at their environment was an improvement at least, in his eyes. He esteemed her and was more comfortable thinking she had a smart handle on the fundamental facts of life. Life was pain, and there was no escape for anyone. In this serene pensiveness, she was more the woman who had earned his respect. She didn't go around sulking and crying out her injustices to everyone the way her friend, Black, and his dear godson did, that was for certain.

They again elapsed into companionable silence as he steered them back to Grimmauld Place. At the door they exchanged genuine farewells, unflavoured by the superficial embellishments people often tag onto goodbyes. It was a simple "Good Day Miss Martin," and "Goodbye Professor," with honest goodwill on both sides. The future was unforeseeable and they would all need honest farewells…

Thanks for reading…


	6. The Task Master's Explanation

A/N: Thank you Passing Whisper, Sparrow's Wing, Kautalya, and Shadow82ABN for the wonderful reviews. I really appreciate it.

Chapter six - The Task Master's Explanation

Daphne had been living at Grimmauld Place for almost two months, and she showed it. She wasn't glowing by any means. It would take far longer than two months to purge the sallow and fragile look she had developed over years of malnutrition, but she definitely looked better. She was now thin as opposed to starved, and she had lost that pinkish agitation about her eyes which shouted 'Anaemic.' She would never be plump: such unwholesomeness so early in life leaves its marks, but she would at least regain the natural shape meant to come with twenty-four years of life. At the moment she didn't even want to think about how she looked in Bella's old robes (Sirius had thoughtfully omitted some of the more ghastly facts in his cousin's history before making gifts of her cloths and jewellery). They consisted of dark earthy coloured fabrics and silks which appealed to her if not for their sizes. Those were meant for a tall well built woman who displayed a healthy fullness. She shrugged her shoulders and quickly slipped into the burgundy, too big, garment with black trim so that she could beat Sirius to the kitchen. He made deplorable eggs which were always irretrievably undercooked, and she would have none of it if she could help it. Today she especially wanted to have a nice smooth morning, and look good if possible: she expected visitors.

Poor Malfoy had been laid up for weeks. The Awefundhiem spell was designed to breakdown the victims physical make up by turning it's own functions against itself. It would literally collapse the body from within over time. Malfoy had only been doused with an instant's worth of exposure due to Severus's quick action, but he still suffered greatly. Madam Pomfrey declared that he would recover after approximately three months of rehabilitation charms. The poor boy's left kidney had to be re-grown, his heart had to be re-taught how to pump, and all his body's cartilage had to be replaced.

The Malfoys were indescribably infuriated that Draco had been so afflicted at Hogwarts: supposedly the safest place in the magical world. Lucius came at Snape almost violently, which was indeed surprising due to his usual manner of cool exterior and habits of secret round-about ways of revenge.

"How could you let this happen to my son, under your care Severus!"

Severus fixed him with a stoic eye. He did care about the situation at hand, he truly did, but he needed Malfoy gone. It was Saturday, and from a Death Eater's point of view entirely a day of relaxation. Hogwarts had no classes, and the Dark Lord never called anyone forth on Saturdays. He preferred to trouble his subjects on the Sabbath: Severus supposed it was meant as some sick irony on the madman's part. But Severus was a spy, and had plenty of hidden things he had to be doing on the only day he could reasonably not answer to anyone. He didn't want the Death Eaters finding out about certain things he was getting up to even if they were unrelated to the war: Daphne's treatment for example. "Calm yourself Lucius. The boy will soon be well on his way to forgetting this event ever happened; I only hope he will not forget the incident's implications that he should better guard himself to such treachery. He's got a lot to learn old friend. We must use this thankfully impermanent unpleasantness to show him the ways of a true Slytherin."

Lucius seemed to deflate somewhat in the face of Severus's obvious concern for the situation. He sat down in one of his host's tasteful forest green leather armchairs an let out a long agitated breath. "I know. And I am grateful you were there to stop most of the damage." He seemed defeated. His Slytherin self serving tendencies stretched to encompass his precious family, who were more important to him than anything, even his pureblood principles. He truly did respect Severus, even if he disliked his own position under him in the Dark Lord's ranks. He would gladly hex the man, make him look bad, or even inadvertently cause his death: that was business, but on a personal level he liked him. And now, he was indebted to him for rescuing one of his two treasures. There was no harm in using their friendship to further his debt. "Severus I wonder if you would be good enough to seek out the person who did this…"

Severus's expression was unreadable. He considered getting Lucius involved in the whole business. He might be useful in extricating the horrid Umbridge from their midst, but until he consulted with Dumbledore he shouldn't do anything to upset the balance. He decided to leave the door open for possibility. He raised an eyebrow and answered, "Do not think for a moment I wish such an assailant running about Hogwarts… especially after attacking my charge. We Slytherins stick together do we not? I will inform you if and when I find anything of importance."

Lucius let out a relieved sigh. Gods only knew what he had in mind for his son's attacker, though Severus unfortunately thought he had a pretty good idea. "Thank you my friend. I'll look forward to hearing from you at any time. Come by the manor when ever you please: our doors as you know will always be open to you." He extended his arm for the 'pureblood hand shake,' which was a grasping of forearms in symbolic loyalty and unbreakable camaraderie.

Severus accepted it and saw his visitor to the floo: thanking Merlin he had turned Lucius's thoughts so quickly and that the man wasn't in the mood for a long friendly chat over a few cups, as was a Death Eater's custom on Saturdays.

Daphne was practically having jitters she was so engulfed by nervous anticipation. She had thought that having a decent 'non-Sirius egged' breakfast would calm her, but it hadn't. She still couldn't help tugging at her ridiculously sagging robes in wait of her two 'doctors,' whom she knew would be showing up that afternoon thanks to the little chat she had had with Severus a few days before.

"What's a doctor?" Sirius asked in bewilderment as he withdrew his wand and flicked it towards her robes, thus shrinking them so much that they now fit her almost too snugly.

She did a double take at herself, somewhat relieved at her improved appearance and impressed at his wonderfully second nature solution.

She distractedly replied, "It's what a muggle calls a healer. But a doctor can also be someone who analyzes your mental status." She shuddered at the memory of Doctor Chelsic.

"Oh." There was a pause. At seeing her shudder he asked, "Not that man who almost had you committed?"

She had never gone in depth about her past with Sirius. All he knew were the cold facts: that she was different, that she had a talent the muggle world had almost stomped out of her, and that she had run away from home when they had decided to put her in an asylum. That last bit was a fact that made his heart soar with pride for her. She still didn't want to taint their pleasant conversation or the way he saw her with confessions: not now, and probably not ever. She only nodded and took a drink of her morning pumpkin juice.

Sirius seemed to understand her silence on the matter and quickly diverted their topic (he didn't particularly want to share his years of tragic madness at Azkaban either). "So, you think Snivellus will have anything more than, 'I don't know,' to say?" She hadn't told him of her meeting with Severus since she would as well have to divulge the fact that she had been out.

She gave him an annoyed look at the name calling, then answered, "Oh I don't know. I certainly hope so."

"'I don't know' seems to be a favourite phrase in the study of your condition," he noted with a mischievous grin.

She rolled her eyes at him for the hundredth time in their acquaintance.

They were again interrupted by the door opening. She silently thanked all the deities for letting them arrive now and not moments earlier: when she looked like she was wearing an expensive tent.

"Ah, Sirius, Miss Martin," Dumbledore bowed cordially. Snape bowed as well.

Daphne smiled warmly. No matter how frustrated she could get at him and Severus alike for making her wait, she could never hold such feelings for long when confronted with those kind twinkling blue eyes. She sometimes thought it was some sort of spell he made use of. Regardless, she stood and gave him a friendly curtsy. That she had learned was still acceptable in the wizarding world. "Would you and Professor Snape like something to drink, ale perhaps?" She looked towards Severus who had again morphed into his formal silent strength persona.

Sirius stood as well and belatedly gave a nod to the misplaced hospitality.

"Oh no thank you. Severus, I believe, is somewhat eager to commence with our business of the day."

Daphne nodded, but before she could say anything Snape suddenly decided to indulge in a little habitual sniping and continued the felicitations.

"Good day Black." He greeted with a vicious smile planning to cut Sirius out of the loop again.

Sirius returned the ingenuine smile with one of his own planning likewise to cut himself 'into' the loop. "Ah Snivellus, excuse me, 'Severus.' How delightful to see you."

Daphne ran a tired hand through her loosely braided hair as she said interveningly, "May we begin."

As their procession made it's way to the library, Sirius made certain that he had worked his way in between Daphne and Dumbledore thus securing a place in the meeting. Severus looked annoyed, but could do nothing without making his feud with Black obvious, which Dumbledore would have none of. They all, there for made themselves comfortable as Severus once again took to the floor.

He gave his attention to Daphne and began, "Perhaps I should not have departed last October without explaining my suspicions somewhat more thoroughly…"

"I agree emphatically," Sirius's bluntly interrupted.

Daphne elbowed him hard in the ribs and he caught at himself with an unsuccessfully stifled cough. Dumbledore politely pretended not to notice the informality but Severus gave his nemesis another nasty smile in consequence to his chastening.

He continued as if nothing had interrupted. "Magical physiological strands, unlike physical DNA, vary from generation to generation. Magic has no material form or 'genes' as DNA does: it's more an aura revolving about and within an object or living thing. However, it does have fundamental patterns lacing it into existence which are unique to itself. For the study of magic and magical theory, Unspeakables have what a muggle would call a 'table of contents.' This table displays the different kinds of magic in the world, varying from elfin magic to plant magic. Magic of course has different strains for different species. In humans, as in every species, there are close to two hundred different magical patterns, all influenceable by the bearer's personality and personal uniqueness. However, as a wand's power of choice, magic is fickle. It chooses who and where it wishes to be. A son will not necessarily carry the same 'type' of magic his father does merely by virtue of sharing hereditary connection: he may possess an entirely different 'pattern' due to his different personal aura . There will always be some magical residue lingering in magical individuals with no real talent, squibs for example, but it chooses who it most agrees with, and performs accordingly. In cases of muggle born wizards, the magic they possess has attached itself more to their souls than to their physical forms, thus suggesting the idea that a muggle born wizard will most likely continue existing as a magical being after death."

"Always the task master. Brilliant Snape, brilliant. Now that you've got all that off your chest, can we hear more about Daphne's condition," Sirius simply couldn't help himself. Afterwards he shot Dumbledore an unsure look, wondering if he'd yet crossed the line. But before anyone could object or give him reproof Severus continued with irritation.

"You Miss Martin have no known magical pattern currently in existence. You are an anomaly. There was however something familiar about your magic that I sensed when I entered your mind (Sirius looked revolted at the thought and shot his friend a sympathetic look as Severus went on). It reminded me of something I once felt when investigating an old magical artefact from Northern Europe. I've done extensive research on ancient cultures of that region and am unable to find a table of magical components which dates any earlier than the sixteenth century. This artefact I handled dated back to the twelfth century at most. This prompts me to believe you somehow harbour a magic which has not yet evolved as the rest of it's species has."

Trying to ignore her friend's snide remarks and actions, Daphne kept to the point. "How can we know?" She asked.

"We can take samples of your magic for laboratory testing."

Sirius looked outraged. "She's not a lab rat Snape! How dare you even suggest stealing her magic."

"As 'touching' as this display is," Severus said sarcastically, "it is rather unnecessary." He turned back to Daphne not giving Sirius another backwards glance, "Taking a sample of a patient's magic is akin to taking a blood sample in a muggle clinic. It is often done when someone is injured and requires magical replenishing charms applied. I can assure you that your body will protect itself by recovering the 'fractional' depletion we will induce." He stressed the word, then stood back as if giving her time and space to decide on the best form of treatment to enter into.

She thought for a moment, stealing glances at Dumbledore who looked at Severus with complete confidence. Being that she also felt complete confidence in Snape, she agreed.

"Very well, take your samples. I want to know."

Sirius looked as if he wanted to talk her out of it, but Severus acted on her words before he got the chance. "Very good." He withdrew his wand and an empty crystal phial with a silver stopper as he walked towards her. He kneeled down in front of her, opened the phial and placed it in her hand: aiming it right side up and guiding her hand directly in front of him: within his reach. He then placed the tip of his wand at the centre of his own finger tips, whispering an incantation for each. When he had gone through all ten digits, he stowed away the long ebony piece of wood and closed his eyes for a moment as if in deep concentration simultaneously flexing both his hands. Sirius opened his mouth to say something but was forestalled by Dumbledore's raised and protesting hand. This silenced him immediately. Severus opened his black eyes and looked directly into Daphne's light brown ones. Keeping eye contact, he placed the fingers of each hand on each of her temples as his thumbs pressed into her forehead just above her eyes. He began whispering jibberish under his breath which no one could hear or understand. Daphne had the feeling he was exercising his own spell because she could feel a kind of familiar power that seemed both foreign yet related to her: another human beings magic perhaps? Regardless, she was distracted by an odd extracting feeling: as if something that wasn't supposed to be leaving her body was being pulled out gently yet forcefully. It wasn't painful, just unnerving. Suddenly, there was an electric charge which visibly shot out of her temples and through Severus's hands. He released her the instant it happened, his fingers carrying with them the energy residue. It was a translucent pinkish blue in colour and had a golden fleecy aura to it. Before it could be absorbed into Severus's flesh he quickly made a shoving gesture towards the opening of the phial held in Daphne's hand: depositing the energy into it and just as deftly capped it with it's silver stopper. He then drew his wand again and sealed it with a wax coating so that none of the substance within could escape into the atmosphere.

Daphne raised the phial to her eyes and observed the colourful gas floating suspended within: her magic. It indeed looked like a series of dissipating and glowing strands caressing themselves gracefully as they slowly churned about, not touching any surface of the crystal phial. This was the thing which had been both her life's curse and blessing: something which had attached itself to her soul and would theoretically follow her beyond death. Curious…

After a moment Severus gestured impatiently for her to hand him the sample and rose as she did so. "This may take many months to analyze. I shall do my utmost to bring you accurate results. I may also have to take further samples in future, but they will be few and indeed, non-depleting." He threw Sirius a disgusted look before tucking the phial away carefully in one of his robe's invisible pockets.

Sirius looked sceptical. But wanting to resolve what he considered to be the important issue he spoke again. "What we are interested in resolving more than the exact origins, is the magic itself. What kind of tests can you do to analyze her lack of control?"

Severus was a relentless researcher and was interested in resolving this as well, but because of his prior conversation with her he knew she would prefer to discuss this with as few people as possible. "That is a confidential topic Black. If you will be so kind as to vacate the room, 'Miss Martin' can become privy to her condition in private."

Sirius couldn't see Daphne's expression, as she was facing Severus, or he would have known Severus was truly being professional and not just trying to goad him. "I think not Snape," he spat with conviction as he stood to place himself supportively at his friend's side, not knowing he was doing exactly the thing which was unsupportive at the moment.

"Sirius," Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I do believe Severus is right. Come, I find that I am particularly in need of a spot of tea at the moment." He guided his young headstrong host reluctantly out of the room.

Both Severus and Daphne watched stoically as the door closed on them. Severus turned to look at the side of her face. "Miss Martin." He motioned for her to be seated as he took up the armchair.

She sat with a mask of tranquillity, not displaying her inner storm.

"The condition I suspect you are suffering from is so rare I doubt it is formally considered 'a condition.' It has no technical name and occurs when a wizard child becomes victim to an incident of severe physical abuse or long term abuse which the child does not understand." He paused, pondering how best to frame the question. She wasn't helping very much since she kept her eyes blankly on the sinister looking black floorboards. He decided to be blunt, "Miss Martin, as your researcher and current healer at the moment, I am requiring you to divulge to me any devious events of your early life."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his in an unreadable expression. "You went through my mind. You should know shouldn't you?"

He frowned. "I did indeed enter your mind, but there was neither time nor motive at the time to concentrate on every memory. I was focusing mainly on the mechanics of your mind and your way of thinking. Now if you don't mind, I will ask again: did you receive any significant abuse as a child?"

She returned her eyes to the floor in a dignified and cynical pose, crossing her arms as she did so. Severus, however was an astute observer: it was a hunched hug disguised as a posture of defiance. After a moment she answered indifferently, "I never had what you would call 'an incident of severe physical abuse.'" She paused. Then looked pensive seemingly forgetting Severus's presence as her eyes drifted off to some unknown memory. She popped out of it as quickly as she had let her mind wander then looked back to Severus and continued wryly, "No it's more what you would call emotional depletion: a cruel jab in the ribs accompanied by a disgusted look from dear old mum for standing in the way, or constant sibling rivalry. My big brother was particularly good at hiding his actions while my parents were at work. I suppose the worst he ever came up with was the time he tethered me to the back of his bike and took me for a spin at a speed I couldn't keep pace with." She paused again and picked up her tale more seriously, "The worst memory from my childhood, aside from the day I ran away, is the day we discovered I had mental difficulties. My Dad had scared me senseless at the doctor's office when he came at me violently, prepared to box my ears I expect. The doctor was present however, so he gave me a good shaking instead. He was silent all the way home. When we got back, he didn't help me out of the car as he usually did. He got out himself and slammed his door hard. He broke the window he used so much force. Without giving me or the window a backwards glance he locked himself in the den for hours. He didn't come to dinner that night: he left me to the bloody mercy of the rest of my family," she gave a bitter look with those glassy eyes whom didn't realize someone else was present, "And he didn't come to bid me goodnight as he always did. I was ten when my heart was broken. He shattered it into a million pieces before the week was out." This sentence was finally what provoked the tears to try to fall, but upon their arrival she remembered Severus's presence and refused to admit them. She insincerely brightened and corralled her eyes' moisture quite well as she continued, "All more of the same tiring emotional tittle-tattle. It goes on and on. I doubt however, that that could be considered 'long term abuse which the child does not understand' either. Doesn't every child go through some form of the like sometime during childhood? Sirius claims Harry Potter himself had a brute of a home, yet he doesn't suffer from this lack of control and spontaneous magic."

Severus would never have put up with such a story from someone who was just trying to gain sympathy, but she was his patient (and though he loathed to admit it: his friend). He needed to hear her history to medically help her, and as he listened his aversion to sharing personal angst was replaced with interest. He had been staring at her the entire time, showing absolutely no expression: giving her the quiet attention she needed to express herself. Internally, he was frowning. She had obviously had a very hard time, probably harder than she was letting on. It pushed memories of his own unhappy childhood to the forefront. He pushed those back aside: noting all the same that her suffering had been very similar to his own. He spared a tiny instant for pride of her: she handled herself with admirable self control. He couldn't help but belittle her friend however, "Black, and consequentially his dear godson, you'll find Miss Martin are unfortunately fond of dramatics. Potter does tend to, shall we say, exaggerate? Returning to your present state however, I must concur that such childhood experiences do not merit magical atrophy. This sudden heartbreak you speak of perhaps could cause it, but that is unlikely. Your father gave no prior signs of his abrupt betrayal?"

She swallowed a calming breath and quietly answered with her eyes again glued to the floor, "No. He had seemed concerned for me during the months leading up to that day. He had always been fond and supportive of me… he just, turned away like a stranger."

"Hmm, its possible." There was a pause.

"Could there be another reason for my troubles?"

Severus thought for a moment. "It could be a consequence of your brand of magic, or it could be that your body is blocking it for some other trauma. Were you ever in an accident or victim to some form of physical shock?"

"I did suffer a concussion when I was nine."

Severus asked sharply, "What was the cause of that?"

She looked some what put out before replying, "My mum forced me to jump off the roof of our one story house because she wanted me to get over my childhood fear of heights. I landed on the cobble stone walk leading around our house on my head."

Severus remained expressionless though his inner frown deepened: unsympathetic and cruel as he was, he would never treat a child thus. "That could certainly have lasting effects on you, consequentially your magic. It could cause an emotional blocking or an actual physical impairment. I had better enter your mind again to see if I can detect damage." He lifted his arm in reassurance as she looked up in protest. "Not now. You are quite fatigued and should have a rest from this for a time. By and by there are other avenues my research should take prior to my re-invasion of your mind."

She looked relieved and nodded thankfully.

He rose again to suggest the meeting finished. She rose likewise and gave him a tight lipped yet gracious smile in gratitude for his effort. He accepted it with a gentlemanly bow and gestured for the door. She took the lead into the kitchen where the others would no doubt be awaiting them impatiently.

When she got there Sirius leaped to his feet and, taking her arm protectively while throwing Severus a nasty distrustful look, guided her to a chair as if she was made of glass. "How are you feeling? You look tired Daph…"

"I'm feeling just fine Sirius. Won't you sit down Professor? Lunch will be ready shortly. You both are welcome to stay the afternoon," She offered, wanting to pay Severus back if only in a small degree for the service he had rendered her in bringing her here. Sirius looked somewhat shocked and disgruntled at the notion of having Severus dine at his table.

Severus on the other hand looked to be thoroughly enjoying the offer made at Black's expense: giving somewhat a smug dignified look. He was half tempted to accept it if only to upset his host, but unfortunately he had no intension of depriving himself of the private lunches in his dungeons on weekends. He was a rather reticent soul and that was the only time he didn't need to be politely in company and use formal etiquette.

It was Dumbledore who finally declined in his stead, as Severus was extending Sirius's anguish as much as possible by not immediately giving a negative. "No thank you, my dear. I dare say I shall gain a great deal of waistline with frequent Hogwarts feasts as it is. Unfortunately we have prior business to attend to." He stood and gave them a benign smile, offering his farewells along with Severus as they both saw themselves out.

"Honestly Daphne. What are you trying to do: put me in an early grave?"

"You should learn better manners and offer your guests refreshment at least," she said reproachfully.

"You sound just like dear old mum."

Thanks for Reading….


	7. Reminiscing and Other Horrors

Thank you beta, Moonlight Wanderer 313

Chapter 7 - Reminiscing and Other Horrors

He spent all his waking hours concentrating on how to find his nemesis and destroy him. He spent all his moments beating his brains out with thinking of all the possible dangers and weak points in his situation. It was worse than a lady's compulsion to worry about her blasted looks. He found his fingers fidgeting about when alone. He was becoming a nervous wreck. When he was a boy, he had dreamed a dream of avenging himself against the world, of striking down those who disliked him, of never ceasing and of gaining power and knowledge at a swords point if need be. He had dreamed of a world bowing at his feet. This was not what he had envisioned. Hiding away in this gloomy, dust covered, gothic looking building with his followers cringing at his feet, finding the moment they left his presence a moment of liberation, had not been his goal.

In his rise to power, he had not taken the time to consider the loss of the given things he took for granted. Now, looking back, it was the simple things he missed. The idiocy of a fool tripping over his own feet which inspired playful mocking, or the odd historical debate in the library in his school days. He was an highly intelligent man and had enjoyed a good debate with an equally intelligent analyst. He liked the conversations which brought fresh and uncharted ideas to one's mind. Now no one dared disagree with any opinion of his. There would be no more debates for him, ever again. Even lively chatter and playful bantering was gone from his life, for who would have the bravery to risk setting his temper aflame. Bella on occasion gave witticisms in his presence, but they were always lacking in charm for him due to their calculated goal to give their mistress favour with him. They were never directed at him. For once in all his seventy-one years, he found himself just wishing someone would jump out of a box and tease him: if nothing else for the novelty of it.

He had never been playfully teased, not once. During his early childhood, he had been pushed about by the fagging system in all schoolboy environments. He had developed hate and resentment towards the very notion of anything that wasn't strictly school yard play or cordial talk. At that time, he didn't even recognize 'playful' teasing as such because of the bullies who had instilled in him a vengeance towards informality. In his teen years, he had himself become the bully in dark corridors when his identity was safely masked with shadows: paying back punch for punch, and curse for curse. In the open he was the intelligent and responsible award winner who was too busy and serious to involve himself in such childish nonsense. Any friends of his looked up to him, and feared him. As a man, he had been secretive and suspicious: driven by his thirst for power and investigations into the unexplored. And now, as a leader, he had missed something.

Where was the enjoyment in life? Where were the moments when 'work' was put away for the evening and the drinks brought round? He had knowledge. He had power. But now it was a constant pain in his backside. It was a constant keeping of that power. No one gave him company out of choice. He kept telling himself it would get better once his one true enemy was finally vanquished… but would it? Before that worthless thorn in his side was even born, did he have what he now sought? No. It had always been this way and it would always be this way.

He let his thoughts stray to Agatha for a moment. Agatha. She had not been a pureblood. And that was where-in lied her failure. He was rising to power for a cause she could never support. Nor was he a pureblood, but not many knew that fact. She had been so pretty. Her long silky dark hair, that was not quite black, was a highlight for the black cloths she often wore. She had had unfathomably blue eyes: a blue so deep it reminded him of starlight reflecting within the expands of a galaxy. Her laugh had been light and pleasing to him: a caress that could get him out of the darkest mood. She had been like a beautiful crystal ballerina crafted within a music box. He had wanted her to be around him always, as a precious record played when one was happy. But she had gotten in the way of his ambitions. At the time, he had regretted it but took it in stride as something which had to be done. He couldn't be tethered to a weight in his plans merely because he found her company pleasing. He'd gone on: forgetting her with the common female Death Eater who was always willing to spend time with him for his favour, but none of them held a candle to her. Always, in the midst of his assignations with such women, it was her face he pictured speaking to and interacting with. He would always superimpose their horrid and false cackles of mirth with her delicate sincere tones. She had never teased him as most lovers would, but not out of fear. She held her banter back out of sensitive caring for his feelings: feelings which had been traitorous in the end. He now wished he had handled that matter differently. At this moment he wouldn't need someone to jump out of a box and disrespect him if he had not sent the Death Eaters for her. But no. That was impossible too. She had loved the dark and handsome man he had been, not the pale monster he was now. He had gone as far as paling himself slightly and dilating his eyes more of a burgundy than their original black, but she hadn't cared: not then. She would care now. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the thought that he was unrecognizable and grotesque. Surely she would turn away in disgust. She had such a tender nature, though, that he pondered for a moment if she would not have tried to help him find a way to reverse his horrible symptoms. She was intelligent as well, he thought with pride. If there ever was a way, she would have found it. Determination was not lacking either: once she set her mind to such a task she would have worked herself into an early grave accomplishing it. His face fell. That's precisely where she was a the moment: a grave. As good as she was in such matters, and as much as he liked thinking on all the wonderful things she would have had to say and do on the matter, she was not here. She was dead. And no one else he knew before or since his betrayal of her would have done half as much. He was alone. Entirely so.

He sighed. At that moment one of the many women Death Eaters who visited him from time to time entered with confidence and a jovial spring to her step. "Oh my Lord! I've been wanting to see you all day."

It happened so fast he barely had time to realized it was his own hand that had done it. She was flung across the room and back out the door she had come through. He cringed at his own stupidity: she was a good Death Eater. He heard the sickening thud on the massive gothic wall across the ground floor, and sighed again. "No you haven't," he said in resignation. No woman in her right mind would want to see him that way now. Not with his face. Not with his insensitive propensity to kill off his companions whenever it most suited him. It was an opportunistic lie and he new it. Still he didn't have to injure her only for acting as any respectable Slytherin would. "You idiot," he said thoroughly disgusted with himself.

He looked about in search of some relief from his present state. He saw Nagini: his loyal pet. Making a bee-line for her he complained, "My pet! I do think I need a change of scene. A walk perhaps: something to rid me of my melancholy."

She hissed in response.

"I know. But one cannot always be protecting one's self by suffocating in his own company."

She hissed again slightly less irritably this time, as if shrugging.

He found her company stilted and insufficient for his present mood. Scowling at her he shook his head and walked away.

Idly he thought to himself that he couldn't even commit suicide if he wanted to. Look what had happened the first go round with Potter. He had merely become a wisp of dirty air and had to wait it out for thirteen years to be rescued by a fat little rat shivering in his shoes. No. He had protected himself from death far too well to change his mind now. Anyhow, he didn't want that. Not really. Ever since childhood he had had an aversion to the thought of dying. He didn't want to know what laid beyond: surely something unpleasant.

He pondered for a moment… and then another. Finally he was so sick with his state he exploded with outrage and summoned his best man: Snape. He didn't care if it was Saturday: he needed something but himself to go on. At least Snape usually had something intelligent to say and didn't look terrified when he was summoned.

He appeared almost immediately. "My Lord." True to Snape form, he marched up gracefully, snapped his heels together military style, and extended a courtly bow. His deportment was high above some of the most important purebloods. "You called?"

"Yes. I was wondering…" he paused. What was he wondering? He had to come up with something forthwith so Snape wouldn't catch on that he was lonely. After all, Snape was a very talented spy and if anyone could see his loneliness it would be him. That would never do for a tyrant like himself. He cast about and latched on the first subject that came to mind. "I was wondering about a half blood called 'Agatha Glennway.' She died some forty-one years ago or so. A young woman from Wales. I don't know much of her background: only that she had a brother who lived in Kent. His name was Tom. I should like to know if he is still alive, and if not, I should like to know if she has any family left. Is that clear?"

"Certainly Sir. Will that be all?"

He internally grumbled. Sometimes Snape could be a little too efficient for his taste: he was in the mood for some of Snape's sarcastic and barbed remarks. It was the closest he'd come to casual conversation in almost four decades. "Hmm… Yes. I want results soon Snape," he hurredly warned, pointing a strong finger.

"Of course. My Lord." Snape bowed again and was gone.

He sighed, then twitched at the repetition of the same sound emitted from his own lungs way too many times for one day.

He spent a few more moments kicking about throwing furtive glances at his 'useless' pet. Then suddenly he felt the wind knocked out of him and he gasped painfully. It felt as if his stomach had been dropped out of him and icy shivers crawled up his back and scalp at a sound he hadn't heard in almost half a century: a sound he didn't ever think he'd hear again… there was no mistaking that delicate lovely laugh.

Severus apparated back to Hogwarts gates directly after his little summons. He and Dumbledore had been half way up the grounds, returning with Daphne's magic sample, when he'd felt his mark burning. Sucking in air at the sensation, he had quickly entrusted the magic sample to Dumbledore's capable keeping, where it would be safely out of the Dark Lord's reach. The latter would be more than intrigued if he somehow found out about her, and Severus had no intension of letting her slip into such dangerous hands. Not only was she the most interesting source for magical study which had appeared in the last five hundred years, but she was a good witch. 'If witch she was,' was his afterthought.

On his walk back down to the gates he took deep calming breaths and cleared his mind of all incriminating thoughts. He had almost let himself worry. After all, the Dark Lord never summoned on Saturdays. It had only been a background check, however, on someone who had been dead for almost fifty years. Curious. He would have to gain full knowledge of this person, 'Agatha Glennway.' He would have to again put Daphne's research aside for something more immediately important. He huffed in frustration. Still, this new matter had piqued his interest, he had to admit. Whom ever Miss Glennway was (he assumed she was a Miss since the Dark Lord had referred to her as a 'young woman'), she had held the interest of the most powerfully dark wizard in history over the duration of a fifty year period. She had to be someone important. 'But how could anyone hold interest for him after death: when they had surely lost all possible usefulness? Was she family? Was she his beloved? Would he even have a beloved?' Severus found it very hard to believe he was ever pure minded enough to see a woman as anything more than pleasant company. Perhaps she had taken some important secret to the grave, and he was searching for a possible confidant whom would know. Or perhaps the Dark Lord doubted her death and wished to see if he could possibly uncover her whereabouts. Severus would find the answer… he always did. Perhaps Dumbledore would recognize the name: he after all had been the despot's teacher. Dumbledore was in fact the only living person whom had known 'Tom Riddle' as such: the boy, and not Voldemort the beast. If anyone would have a clue as to what this was about, it would be him.

Consequentially, he climbed Hogwarts' endless staircases to the tower harbouring the Headmaster's office to have that cup over a long fireside chat, as was a Death Eater's custom on Saturdays.

Sirius had tormented her for the last week. "What did he say?" This question was repeated over again, at times as a casual inquiry and others as a demand to know.

She had told him only that Severus had not come to a coherent conclusion and that there were many possibilities which had to be investigated about her lack of control, but Sirius was an unforgivably suspicious and taxing friend. He knew more had been said and that he was again being left out of the loop. It vexed him, and hurt him: why didn't she trust him with her diagnoses. Hadn't he promised to help her gain control? Hadn't he supported and bolstered her in everyway possible? He tried not to, but he couldn't help taking it personal. It came to a head one evening during dinner.

He dropped his fork abruptly making Daphne jump. "Why don't you just tell me Daph? What is it? Do you think I won't understand, or that I'll look down my nose at you for whatever's causing this?"

She looked down both in shame and weariness. She didn't want to make Sirius feel bad, but she also didn't want to share her childhood with him. "Sirius, none of that's true. There are just some things in my life I prefer not to discuss: with anyone."

"But you'll discuss them with him?"

"No. I didn't want to talk to him about it either. But he is my healer and the one studying my condition: he needs to know."

"I told you I would help too. I want to help. I may not be a potions master or a researcher, but I am educated. There's a lot I could do. Daphne the more people working on this, the better chance you have of getting cured. I really have serious doubts about Severus's judgment. He may be talented but he's a prat and I don't trust him."

She smiled wryly. "You know that's the first time I've heard you call him anything but Snivellus or Grease Git."

"Come now Daphne, this is not a joke."

She took a deep breath of deliberation. There was a gargantuan pause in which she weighed the importance of Sirius's feelings against her own. She found that she could not hurt him. Frowning, she gave in, "Alright." She sighed, "The reason he didn't want anyone else in the room was because he suspected my problem stems from child abuse. He thought it unprofessional to let anyone else hear such substantially confidential information."

Sirius's eyebrows rose in surprise but he quickly tried to train his face into a patient supportive pose.

Shaking her head with intense eyes she continued, "I wasn't abused Sirius. I didn't have a happy childhood: in fact I was right miserable but I wasn't abused. There's only one incident Severus thinks might have been cause for my ailment. But he's not sure and he has to study on it." She stopped there hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't ask about the incident. Sirius however couldn't help being Sirius.

"What was the incident?" He asked with a sharp and determined voice.

She looked anywhere but his face: to the floor and walls. Without realizing it she hunched and hugged in succession. After a moment of controlling her eyes which wanted to start watering she began. "I was forced to jump from the roof to discipline my fear of heights. On the way down I hit my head. It gave me a concussion. Severus thinks there might have been lasting damage to my brain, or that it was such a traumatic experience that my mind might be blocking my ability. Both possibilities might be entirely wrong."

Sirius's face drained of all colour in the fasted flash of indignant anger she had ever seen. He looked quite scary. Gone was the jovial toasting personality, and in its place sat a vengeful angel. "Who's idea was that?"

"My mother's."

They were both silent for a while. Eventually Sirius stood and walked to the corner giving her his back for a moment. She couldn't help but gulp and sputter in remembrance of her father's reaction when he couldn't deny any longer that there was something wrong with her. She also stood to vacate the room: Sirius's way of handling his anger was all too akin to the kind of rejection she had suffered all her life. If she didn't leave soon she would be in danger of exposing herself. Before she got a chance however he turned and spoke.

"Daphne! They were all a bunch of ruddy rotten fools who didn't rise to your bloody boot buckle." In a few determined strides he had scooped her up in a strong and frightfully comforting hug. She gasped: trying to hold in her emotion. She was unsuccessful. She eventually gave into her grief and returned the hug with a death grip, leaning her head on his shoulder and allowing her eyes to slowly leak.

Severus was quite weary. Dumbledore had not heard the name and all substantial record had not yielded knowledge of her: she appeared to be a common witch with no outstanding history. He had gone through all his sordid connections, back alley suppliers and even the old drunken geezers slinking about Knockturn Alley, and come up empty handed. Someone somewhere had to know something about her, but it seemed he would have to search the paper line of wizarding births, marriage certificates and obituaries to find her which he had always considered to be second in quality to first hand rumours. Though sometimes very exaggerated, they could lead quite quickly to the dragon's fire. Severus sat at his desk contemplating the chandelier high pile of records. He decided to eat dinner before he delved headlong into another sleepless night. Consequentially he rose and began ascending the dungeon stairs.

Dinner was uneventful and pointless as far as mindless chatter went. McGonagall was in a heated discussion with Madam Pince about some book or other which had ended up lost in the restricted section. Umbridge was telling Professor Sprout that she should put better reinforcements around the Venomous Tentacula plants and Dumbledore was having fun innocently teasing Madam Hooch about her short grey hair. Severus rolled his eyes dramatically before turning away from the offended lady's face and making his way down the Great Hall.

On his way back to the dungeons after that dismal meal Snape noticed something odd about the lighting behind one of the many suits of armour. He stole closer until he could detect a definite shimmer close to the ground. He smirked with sinister relish and drew himself up to his full, not inconsiderable, height.

"Mr. Potter… You would do well to better conceal your anatomical evidence while 'slithering' about forbidden corridors." A moment passed with no reply and Snape wondered how he had the forbearance to teach at a school. "Must I draw you out of your ill-conceived hiding spot?"

Slowly worn trainers materialized before an Invisibility Cloak spilled off of its owner, Harry Potter. He wore a dignified glare and Snape sneered, thinking of all the wonderful things he could put him through in detention. His fantasy was shattered however when he remembered that he had a substantial amount of research to get up to tonight. Internally grumbling, he was about to withdraw an obscene amount of house points from Gryffindor before he thought of a truly brilliant alternative. "Now now, lets see, using an Invisibility Cloak is not technically against the rules, but using it in conjunction with a disillusionment charm in the corridors? That should earn you at least one evening in my service; and lurking about the east wing when Gryffindor tower is all the way up the North boundary and you've only got fifteen minutes before curfew… you'll never make it. So, that leaves you with two nights worth of detention, Potter." Snape let a pleasant pause stretch out before cementing the sentence, "Follow me."

With slumped shoulders Harry followed thinking that it wasn't quite fair of Snape to hit him for curfew since he wasn't quite late yet, and damn the spy for having such sharp eyes as to see the disillusioned feet under the cloak. This was going to be a long night.

Harry had finished with the last file of records. He had expected some horrible job that included sorting out frog guts or something, but this was far more depleting. He felt as if his identity was being sucked out of him, leaving a drone who mechanically continued the task. Distantly Harry mused that it would have been quite an enjoyable detention for Hermione: organizing files would've been her idea of a good time. But alas! It was he whom had to suffer the intoxicatingly dull effects of endless piles of rubbish. It was really very odd. These papers didn't even have to do with Hogwarts. They were many federal looking documents about people all over England. He was to set about organizing files on each individual and creating a table of contents in alphabetical order by sir-name. Being that everything was separated out into four gigantic piles of birth certificates, marriage certificates, obituaries and miscellaneous information, this was no laughing matter. When he had asked why all these were even kept at Hogwarts instead of in a ministry hall of records he had only been granted a cold look and a curt command to 'Get to work.' Snatching his bag snappishly, he stood and tried not to fairly run from the room in relief.

"I'm finished sir."

Snape looked up from his grading. "The table of contents?"

"It's there." Harry looked confused at Snape's look of expectancy before realizing he wanted him to hand it over. He sighed while returning to the student desk and retrieved it. Handing it to his monstrous professor he waited for the verdict.

Snape gave the several page document a bored glance: appearing for the world completely careless of it, but subtly keeping a finger on the surnames starting with 'G.'

"Very good Mr. Potter. You may go."

Harry turned with alacrity, internally agitated at the fact that he was stuck here doing useless detentions such as this one when he could be out there fighting for the cause. Those hours wasted on categorizing meaningless records, years out of date, could have been spent categorizing current records for the Order. He could feel the war drawing ever closer with all those troublesome dreams and he wanted nothing more than to do something to help the fight. Be it physical combat or dull research, as long as it was useful: real research.

As soon as Potter had turned Snape looked back at the document and took a sweeping glance of the 'G' list. He smiled imperceptibly, 'You just did.' He thought with irony. He had of course been intruding into the annoying boy's mind to assure himself that all had been done well: and it had.

Thanks for Reading…


	8. Perceptions Abound

A/N: This chapter has segments of J.K. Rowling's original work from the "Order of the Phoenix." I humbly use them in conjunction with this piece merely for the success of its smoothness and in no way 'improve' on them.

And, as always, special thanks to my beta, Moonlight Wanderer 313

Chapter 8 - Perceptions Abound

Agatha fanfir Glennway

Occupation - Wizarding Linguist and Scholar

Blood Status - Half-blood

Born - 1934 Died - 1961

(disappeared, presumably murdered by the Death Eater organization)

Birthplace - Amlwch Port, Anglesey, Wales

Educated - the Amlwch Mystic Academy for girls

Family - Born to Mr. Boudiccous Elpis Glennway and Mrs. Sandra Sally Glennway.

Severus considered the file in his hand carefully after locating it from Potter's surprisingly thorough filing system. 'Picking up some of Miss Granger's meticulousness are we,' he thought with amusement. He then located Miss Glennway's parents' files as well as her brother's. Her father had been a wand maker and had been killed during a robbery of his shop. Her muggle mother had been a clerk in said shop, but had been fatefully absent that dreadful night. She died some years later of a Muggle heart disease. Severus did some more investigation in conjunction with her brother's file, looking up old headlines and such. He, Tomas Amalric Glennway, had been a solicitor for the MHS, Magical Historical Society. He had aided his sister countless times in obtaining the necessary funds for new avenues of investigation into ancient wizarding communities and cultures. After her untimely end he lived many years of obscurity, retiring from the public eye and seemingly drinking his career into the ground. Eventually, he disappeared some ten years after Miss Glennway's death. He was found murdered in April of 1982 near a research facility on the small uninhabited island of Nordaustlandet.

Severus frowned. It was an unsolved murder without so much as a clue to even why the man had appeared so far away from his home eleven years after his own disappearance. Where had Mr. Glennway been all that time, and why would he travel to an island inhabited only by muggle researchers? A number of his sister's research endeavours had been orchestrated there, but she had already been dead for over twenty years: it was unlikely that he would be getting up to any unfinished business regarding her work. Still Severus chose to be thorough and planned a few visits to the Department of Records at the main Ministry building in London.

After countless trips, and over a span of a few weeks, he finally found what he was looking for. It took him many Gallion passes and a few heated threats to get him into the Department of Mysteries, but at length he was permitted entry. Miss Glennway's last project was indeed a look into Nordaustlandet artefacts of a strange nature. Project -, it was called. It had been shelved after her death as being inconsequential and unimportant for the time being and eventually forgotten.

'Perhaps Mr. Glennway thought it important enough to reconsider after twenty-one years,' mused Severus. He couldn't help but think of Daphne for a moment and her condition. He had suspected it had a connection to old Norseman magic, and he couldn't help now thinking it quite odd that this seemingly unrelated matter also had connection there. Pushing thoughts of Daphne aside for the moment, he gathered the information he had obtained thus far and travelled back to Hogwarts to report to Dumbledore.

Daphne had been very depressed since she had spoken to Sirius a fortnight ago. She felt that every time he looked at her, he thought of the incident of the concussion, and that every time Severus thought of her, he would naturally picture the tears and her pathetic state. She felt ridiculous and worthless. She had spent the last week, after her confession to Sirius, in her room brooding over her lack of self value. Many tears were shed and brushed away. She had gotten over the terrible self pity of it all, but still felt a low level of melancholy.

She thought of Sirius. Poor Sirius. He had tried to draw her out of her room countless times with bribes of special dinners and threats of the tickling jinx, but she had responded blandly. She knew he was worried and she truly felt bad to be causing such worry, but she also couldn't stand to be the object of anyone else's pity. However, it was coming close to Christmas she knew, and she was thoroughly disgusted with herself for ignoring Sirius at such a time. He must be getting quite depressed himself, lurking about those dusty corridors by himself. She stubbornly resolved on going down and speaking to him no matter how badly she just wanted to curl up and disappear.

She quickly changed her nightshirt, which she had worn for the last long while, and made a determined stride for the door. As she came down stairs she realised that it must have been small hours since the halls were entirely devoid of lighting of any sort. She peered about and knew that he must have retired hours ago. Huffing indignantly at her lack of awareness, she trudged defeated to the kitchen for a late night cup of tea.

As she put the kettle to boil, Kreacher came stalking into the kitchen mumbling. She glanced his way stoically. Since she had arrived he had been belligerent. He was unsure of her blood status, and thus spoke to her with slightly more respect than the 'Mudbloods' frequenting Order meetings. But the fact that she was Sirius's friend was enough to earn her sneers and mutterings of 'blood traitors.' She hated prejudice and so had as little to do with him as humanly possible. When he began muttering that she was 'the Master's wench,' she only ignored him and continued with her preparations for tea. She thought Sirius entirely too effected by the small creature's animosity. She contented herself with the fact that those whom held such reservations with other people couldn't be truly happy in their own lives.

While absorbed in the musings of philosophical righteousness, she was bluntly interrupted by Sirius's brisk entry. He seemed shocked to see her and looked quite anxious. She noticed that he was unshaven and still in his day clothes.

"Sirius what is it?" She asked.

He shook his head slightly as if to clear it. "Daph… I'm glad you came down." He didn't look as if he would enlighten her further.

"Sirius." She stood and walked to stand in front of him with worried eyes. "Tell me."

"It's just. I'm sorry I have to throw you into another dire situation only just after you've come round." He smiled almost imperceptibly.

"I can handle it. Now what happened?" she told him earnestly.

"Arthur's been attacked while on duty."

Fear shot through her heart and her eyes widened in alarm as she stared at Sirius. "Not Arthur…" She whispered it as if not saying it aloud would prevent it's validity.

"I'm afraid so. But he's not dead! I really don't know what's going on. Come on, Harry should be here any minute to tell us what happened." He guided her into a chair while he took to pacing a trail into the floorboards.

Harry arrived only moments after, buckling under the influence of Dumbledore's kettle Portkey. While he was getting his bearings along with the other Weasley children Kreacher began his horrible muttered insults and Sirius shouted at him to get "OUT!" Kreacher obeyed but took up residence out side the door so that he might listen as well.

Sirius helped Ginny up while diving into the import of the visit. "What's going on? Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured-"

"Ask Harry," said Fred.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," said George.

Harry looked as if he was going to break into a cold sweat soon as most of the Weasleys stared him down. "It was - I had a - a kind of - vision…"

As he told them the tale of how he had dreamt of a gigantic snake attacking Arthur Weasley in the cold vestibules of a dark place the twins and young girl looked almost accusingly at him. The fourth Weasley, who looked younger than the two twins, only stood nervously staring about with a pale face.

Daphne felt most passionate that they were putting Potter on the hot seat merely for witnessing the attack in a dream. She had had like occurrences with her visions, and many times used people's superstitions in her favour: as a deterrent for unwanted company. But these were supposedly his friends, and she was disgusted with the lot of them.

They eventually turned their attention to Sirius and began pressing him to help them get to St. Mungo's. When he told them that it was too suspicious a business already and that they would have to wait for word from Molly, the twins reset their sights to hit Sirius with their immature and emotion induced bashing.

"We don't care about the dumb Order!" shouted Fred.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" yelled George.

"Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" said Sirius passionately. "This is how it goes - this is why you're not in the Order - You don't understand - there are things worth dying for!"

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!" bellowed Fred. "I don't see you risking you neck!"

Daphne inhaled a heated breath. She couldn't believe this inexperienced pampered boy had the nerve to accuse Sirius so blatantly of cowardice. And she found it inordinately foul that people always chose to turn on each other when times were hardest.

Sirius didn't take kindly to it either. For a moment Daphne thought he would hit Fred, but when he spoke it was with a voice of determined calm. "I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?"

Ginny was first to give in and sit down, as did Harry and Ron, while the twins shifted mutinously a bit before like wise taking seats nearest Ginny.

"That's right, said Sirius encouragingly, "come on, let's all… let's all have a drink while we're waiting."

Before he could turn to retrieve the ghastly fermented Butterbeers Daphne made for the kettle and began brewing a fresh pot of tea. They were all quiet for a time: Daphne standing by the old stove. She cared for Arthur very much and she watched the progress of the tea pensively with worry radiating off herself.

Harry felt more than distraught. He felt responsible. He couldn't reason it out or rationalize it in his mind. In his mind it was he, himself, who had harmed Mr. Weasley: it was his fault that they were all there, out of bed and pondering the life of his best friend's dad.

In his misery however, his eye was distantly caught by the slight figure busy with the tea things. In a bizarre distraction of mind he took in her appearance curiously. You couldn't really call her a girl, but she didn't look old enough to be a woman either. She was way too thin in his opinion, had beige coloured hair and mild brown eyes. She looked almost like what he pictured a wisp of Celtic legend would look like. She had a slight frown on as she worked, and he wondered who she might be.

Sirius noticed his godson's gaze and immediately snapped out of his own distraction. "Oh, Harry…. I didn't get a chance to tell you last time I floo'd. This is Daphne. She's staying here for the time being on business for the Order." He didn't think it wise to be spreading it about in a crowded room that she was there for magical research: that should remain a secret. "Daphne this is my godson, Harry. His best friend Ron," he gestured as he spoke, "Ron's sister, Ginny, and the twins, Fred and George."

They all glanced up at her and nodded in acknowledgement, then went back to sulking. Harry tried to pull off a weak smile then looked down to the floorboards as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Daphne knew that look, and it saddened her that he should feel so guilty for being born with powers of perception.

The night wore on with a heavy layer of stuffiness in the air. The Weasley children grief stricken, and the other three uncomfortably intruding. Sometime during the night, they got a note, delivered by Fawkes's fiery feather, in Molly's handwriting. It only stated that he was still alive, and that they should all remain where they were. This was dismally unsatisfying for their ignorance and in extremely bad taste the twins thought bitterly. When the break of dawn finally arrived, the heavy front door opened, and in came Molly: tired looking but with a definite warmth to her face. She smiled at them all and informed them that Arthur would be alright. The stuffiness, as though clinging to existence, slowly was sucked out of the air, and relief was inhaled.

"Breakfast!" said Sirius joyfully jumping to his feet. When Kreacher wouldn't come to his master's summons, Sirius gave up and started jovially making the meal himself. Harry ran to help so that he didn't have to face Molly, but she accosted him and forced him into a huge hug: thanking him warmly for his warning. If not for him Arthur would have been found too late for even St. Mungo's to help, and the Ministry would have come down hard on him for being somewhere he didn't belong in the first place. She looked truly adoringly on Harry before releasing him and turning to Sirius to thank him for looking after her children and letting them stay over the Christmas Holiday to be close to Arthur.

"The more the merrier," he assured her while they both beamed at each other, which was truly unusual seeing as how they had something of a beef against each other. She threw on an apron to help with breakfast before finding Daphne in the corner with a solemn look in her eye.

"Oh Daphne," She threw her arms around her dear young friend that she hadn't seen since the beginning of term when the massacre of the safe house had kept them all at Grimmauld Place for weeks.

"Molly… I'm so glad Arthur's alright." Daphne mumbled through the joyful woman's mass of red curls.

Ron did a double take and looked more carefully at the quiet young woman he had merely taken for granted before.

"Come on, let's not let Sirius ruin breakfast shall we."

Daphne smiled genuinely for the first time in weeks. When it came to the kitchen, Molly was mistress. Daphne looked about for some chore to take away from Sirius, but noticed Harry almost dragging him into the pantry. She saw it immediately: Harry thought he himself had done the act. His future words to Sirius flashed through her mind: 'Sirius… I think I'm going mad… for a couple of seconds there I thought I was the snake, I felt like one… Sirius I wanted to attack him-'

Her frown deepened. There was something odd happening here: she felt it. This wasn't just shock or posttraumatic stress as she knew Sirius thought. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She continued helping Molly while pondering the event and shifting through her mind's built in runes. It was hard, since she hadn't let herself perceive anything in months, but she was consistently pushing at the fetters of feeling and coaxing the truth to come.

Breakfast past in a blur for Daphne. Sirius could be heard laughing and telling stories while Molly was everywhere at once: passing dishes and ensuring everyone got double helpings. To Molly's chagrin Daphne only took occasional mouthfuls simply refusing to indulge the woman with a healthy display of hunger. She wasn't hungry, she was too busy channeling her concentration. She really oughtn't have eaten anything: meditation was what was in order.

As she was escaping Molly sometime after, she accidentally brushed Harry on the way up the stairs. It happened so suddenly she barely had time to catch herself before she fell over the railing. A bolt of panic and aversion shot through her heart and she felt as if she would faint and retch all at once.

"Er, Miss… Daphne? Are you okay?" With the speed only a seeker could posses, Harry had shot his hands out and grasped her forearms in a protective steadying hold.

Her eyes almost bulged. She knew he was trying to help, but he was only making it worse by not releasing her. All she could see was that pale chilling face cascading into her thoughts: presenting a malicious sneer to her and she couldn't take it much longer. "Please excuse me," she tore herself away from him and rushed to the second floor bathroom to violently reject the little breakfast she had eaten.

Both Harry and Ron appeared outside the door tentatively. "Erm, Daphne… do you need anything?" called Ron's unsure voice.

She retched her last and rinsed her mouth before answering. "No thank you. I will be out presently."

Both boys exchanged worried looks but continued on upstairs.

She had to speak to Sirius. She didn't know quite what was going on but she had to tell him that something was direly wrong. She left the bathroom intent on finding him. She sighed in relief when she saw him positively bouncing up the stairs.

"Sirius. I have to talk to you, now."

He gave her a brilliant smile. "My my, I really am the most popular person this morning…"

She pursed her lips in annoyance. "Not now, this is serious!"

"Why Daphne, you've wounded me. You should know I'm always 'serious.'" He smirked at his own cleverness.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand: dragging him into the library, thrusting him inside and slamming the door. She turned and tried not to sound absolutely insane. "Now Sirius… I know how much you care about Harry, so you're not going to like this. But I've got to tell you something."

He stopped horsing around with suggestive looks and considered her with a frown. "What is it?"

She took a deep breath and continued. "Sirius, I know what you two spoke of in the pantry. I wasn't spying on you… I just know. And I have to say that there is something to what the boy is saying. (at his outraged look she amended) Not about he himself being the snake or going mad. Its just… Sirius I brushed against him by accident as I was passing him on the stairs moments ago. And I got the feeling of two people, not one. Two. It's almost as if he's being possessed…"

"Wait, what are you saying? That he some how transported himself to the Ministry in the middle of the night and attacked Arthur while under the influence of possession, then returned to Hogwarts to wake everyone up about it?…"

She was still shaking from the after effects of the perception. "No, no. This isn't a possession, where someone takes his body over for a while… I sense someone is already in him as he himself in consciously making decisions: a parasite? I don't know, but that boy has two presences about him. I felt it. He's not bad in the least Sirius. In fact I like him very much: I can tell he's everything you've said he is, but there's something else 'in' him that bothers me."

Sirius looked aggravated. "Well what do you want me to do?" He stopped himself before he got carried away with sarcasm. Her patient concerned look was enough to disarm him. He thought for a moment. "I suppose it would be wise to tell Dumbledore your suspicions, just in case. Maybe there's a way to help whatever this is out of him."

Sirius looked worried and Daphne didn't know how to make things better. She felt disgusted with herself: as if she was betraying a fellow comrade. This after all was exactly what had happened to her. She had appeared to have an odd nature and everyone around her took it as something that was wrong about her. It had ruined her life and now she felt like the very persecutors she'd always resented. "Sirius it might not be all that bad, we can't judge before we know. I might be entirely wrong about this, I just thought you should know." She finished lamely and with a pained expression.

Sirius roused from his worried musing and grasped her shoulder in a brotherly hold. "I know Daph. Whatever this is we're all together on it right.." It wasn't a question: it was a statement of strength, of conviction that there were those of them that would never falter or fail to be there for each other.

Daphne gave a small endearing smile in agreement and they exited the library, Sirius leaving his arm around her in a heartening hold. He almost needed her bony yet supportive shoulder to lean on just now.

When their guard got there to escort them to visit Arthur, Daphne shot an involuntary glance at Sirius. Again, she felt terrible about leaving him in these musty halls while she left the house. He gave her a reassuring smile and made his way over. "You don't really believe I'm going to tether you here when I know you so desperately want to breath some fresh air and see how Arthur's doing for yourself?" He whispered.

She gave a defeated look and smiled back at him before being led out by Mad-eye and Tonks. When they reached the subway, Mad-eye and Molly took charge of the Weasley children while Tonks and Daphne sat on either side of Harry (Daphne taking care not to brush against him). Tonks appeared very interested in Harry's perception. "There isn't any seer blood in your family, is there?"

Harry refused with a distant and morbid look and spoke no further of the issue while Tonks went on about how he wasn't particularly seeing the future, but the present.

Daphne almost laughed at Tonks's unawareness of Harry's feelings: it was fairly obvious to her he did not want to talk about it and that he found 'seer's blood' quite unbelievable. That was odd, seeing as how he had had a perception himself and not to mention the fact that they were all wizards, he should have been a believer.

Tonks abrubtly broke her train of thought. "So… Daphne… You and Sirius aren't… well you know?"

Harry's sad eyes shot up in shock entirely forgetting about his problems for the moment. He looked at her questioningly.

She shook her head. How could people be so wrongly assuming? "Tonks you are without doubt the most curious creature I've ever come across."

Tonk's gave her a wicked smile, "Well I wouldn't blame you: Sirius is a very handsome man. And you two 'are' holed up together all the time…"

"Don't let Remus catch you saying that."

Tonks looked floored and slightly horrified (she of course had no idea about Daphne's abilities, only believing the Order had taken her in as they did everyone else). "How did you…"

It was Daphne's turn to smile. "We're just good friends. He's like a brother to me."

Tonks dropped the subject abruptly and Harry looked between the two females as if they had both gone mad before looking back to the ground.

The rest of the subway ride passed without occurrence. They trudged up the escalators at the next stop and had a bright sunny walk to the building St. Mungo's was hidden in. Daphne was quite enjoying herself for once. As they went along single file she felt lovely basking in the sun. They were only a block away when she suddenly stopped involuntarily, making Ginny stumble into her back.

She had been observing the shoppers and passers-by and her heart stopped when she spotted a man in a grey wool coat. It was tailor made to fit his extraordinarily large shoulders without ado and the buttons had been hand selected from a lonely shoreline of the Thames River just outside London. Small beads of sweat began blossoming on her temples as she slowly moved her eyes to the man's face. He already had his eye on her, and she inhaled sharply when their eye's met. Her breath rate increased and her lip trembled as she felt that she would faint. He had stern frown lines on his face, completely overriding the laugh lines she used to love. His eyes widened into something akin to shock as he stared at her. He began moving briskly towards her and she stumbled as Ginny tried to get her to move along.

He was getting closer and she didn't know what to do. Gasping for breath, she could faintly hear Mad-Eye's harsh voice somewhere behind her telling them to keep moving, but she couldn't: she was rooted to the spot. She was hyperventilating and feeling a pounding in her chest the likes of which she hadn't felt in years. And just as the man was reaching the curb on their side of the street she felt a strong hand grasp her arm and force her forward.

'Father…' she managed to breath as she passed the invisible barrier just outside of St. Mungo's.

She watched with her eyes full as he instantly looked about scanning the spot she had just been moments before. She reached her hand out for a moment before Moody growled, "Come on, Miss Daphne," pushing her forward once more. The tears were freely streaming down her face as she watched her father walking in circles looking up and down the street. She was pushed passed a door and into the building leaving him behind.

It was useless trying to hide her sobbing as she walked to a corner and faced the wall. She noticed that Tonks and Harry had tried to catch her by the arm and ask her what was wrong but she ignored them. She looked out the window again and saw him look down in sadness as he gave up and walk away.

Authors Note: Sorry for not putting more of Severus in this one, but it was mainly covering the bit where Harry comes into the picture. The Christmas Holiday was all going to be one chapter, but it was just too long, so had to split it… anyhow hope you liked it. Thanks for reading.


	9. Spreading the Cheer

A/N: Hello. I took some small amount of liberty with this chapter, in assuming that (like most things in the wizarding world) tradition and culture is old fashioned. It is just my take on things, from the books and Mrs. Weasley's overall attitude. For those of you who don't agree, please have patience with it.

Also, I would like to again give a humungous thanks to my wonderful beta: Moonlight Wanderer 313

Chapter 9 - Spreading the Cheer

"Well, my spy? What are your results?"

"There was indeed a brother whom lived in Kent. Mr. Tomas Glennway, however, has been deceased as of April 1982. He was a solicitor and Miss Glennway owed more than a nod to the fruits of his labor: as she utilized it frequently in her own field. After her unfortunate passing, Mr. Glennway became estranged from the world at large for some time. Many believed him mad. He disappeared, and later was found murdered near a Muggle Walrus research facility on an uninhabited island in the Arctic Circle. His attackers were never found. He was never married and had no known dalliances or progeny. Mr. and Mrs. Glennway, while outliving their daughter, did not outlive their son and the family as a whole is no more. The girl's closest living relatives are the children of a distant cousin on the Muggle side of the family. That is all My Lord." Snape bowed and waited for acknowledgement, reward, or punishment (with the tyrant's chronically fluctuating moods one could never be certain).

Voldemort looked at Severus appraisingly while idly toying with his own wand. He hadn't expected different information and therefore only pondered his favorite Death Eater's literal words. "You know Snape I noticed you never use our clever little term." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully then smiled. "Come now my friend, speak it, if only once. I'm curious to know how it sounds off your tongue."

Though Voldemort's expression and words seemed candid Severus knew he was on dangerous ground. This was a very sick man: he wasn't above toying with his right-hand man; and using healing spells only after to put things to right. He knew he had to watch his words to keep the Dark Lord behind the damn of regard. One torture session could easily cause an irreparable crack that could release a deluge of punishment in future.

He relaxed his demeanour entirely: showing no signs of trepidation or confusion. He even put off a little aura of indifference towards the subject itself for good measure. "The term 'Mudblood' My Lord, while clever, is tiresomely crude in my opinion. Do not misunderstand me: I heartily approve of the saying. It bolsters Pureblood morale and is excellent in a school setting: to build the delicate confidence of young minds. However… I find that I prefer a more subtle weapon against lower stations than open ridicule. Any savage can shout petty insults. Wizards of superior status must exercise our sophistication."

Voldemort pondered Severus's words for a moment before letting out a hiss of laughter. "Oh Severus, you never fail to amuse me. You must give Lucius lessons in form sometime: he has a tendency to forget he's above you in blood-status."

Severus bowed in response.

"Well, I suppose you should return to Hogwarts." He said this with slight regret. He didn't want Snape to leave. He had been wretchedly mistaken when he was unsatisfied with peace and quiet: now he had an even bigger problem than mere loneliness. "Aside from the usual meetings, I will summon you in six weeks' time to know more of the boy… Dismissed."

Snape bowed again with a swift, "My Lord," and exited the room.

Voldemort closed his eyes in weariness and anticipation of what would surely come next.

"So… You continue threatening your allies do you Tom? You really are making a habit of it you know."

While keeping his eyes closed so he didn't have to see her sweet face marred by death, he answered, "You are an apparition my love. And I won't speak to someone who isn't truly here."

"Ha! You don't believe I'm here. Would you like me to prove it to you?"

He dreaded what she had in mind: this new version of the once gentle Agatha was entirely more terrifying than her embodiment in life. When she had first come to him after Snape's last departure, she had nearly stopped his heart in mid beat. He looked upon her with horror filled eyes. She was gaunt, with a sickly yellow pallor to her doughy skin. Her once enchantingly blue eyes were now dark and sunken as if death had dimmed and withered the joy which once lived in them. Her hair was brittle and sparse, as if some contagion had caused most of it to fall out. 'Does death surprise you that much My Heart? I would think you would be used to it by now,' she had said. She was also entirely more cruel. Gone was the angel of a girl who would cater to his every mood and whim. She was now an abomination. She would taunt him with past mistakes and present flaws. She had had a field day with his looks and accused him of being almost as glamorous as herself. She used every ounce of that insurmountable wit of hers to drive him mad.

She was not a ghost. Ghosts were transparent and looked just as they had in life. She was not a poltergeist, because they had the same attributes as normal ghosts. She was not living matter, because he had tried to strike her and found himself thrust to the floor by the force of his own hurl. He had passed through her without the chilling effects one usually felt when in contact with a deceased entity. She had laughed at his antics and he had almost cried at hearing her heavenly laugh, which is what he lived on for so long, spat out in that sarcastic way. He had stayed crumbled on the ground whimpering at the loss of her beautiful image: she had only laughed at him.

Now however, after the initial shock had passed, he only felt a sinking dread. "That won't be necessary Agatha." He let out a shuttering breath and kept his eyes firmly closed as her tormenting amusement rode out about him.

Daphne wiped at her tears and suppressed a shudder before blandly following the Weasleys through the motions of the visit. She distantly noticed a young man unwillingly tap dancing in jinxed shoes as she waited for Molly to discover which ward Mr. Weasley was presently in. Normally she would have at least smirked at such a display, but she was too caught up with musings on what she should have done or not done, and what would have been the result of speaking to her father again after years of estrangement. She was still sought by the Muggle authorities as a committed paranoid schizophrenic. Would he have turned her in? Would he have tried to help her gain her freedom and establish a normal residence, or taken her into his own once again? These were questions she didn't want to ask herself but couldn't help pondering.

"We'll wait outside Molly," Tonks said. "Arthur won't want too many visitors at once… It ought to be just the family first."

That was fine by Daphne. She was now entirely consumed by her own thoughts, and would rather see Arthur when she could actually give support and not hover despondently about. She followed Moody's example and leaned back against the wall outside as the Weasleys and an awkward Harry entered (Molly wasn't about to let him escape her and her husband's warm acceptance of him as one of their own sons). Even through her dejection, Daphne smiled at that. She had always admired genuine and unconditional affection: most especially from people whom it was totally unrequired of.

The comment about Remus on the subway had kept Tonks pleasantly tactful for a while, but now she was getting back into a swing of unabashed nosiness. She walked up on Daphne's other side and whispered close to her ear so that Mad-Eye, whom had been watching Daphne closely since they had arrived, wouldn't hear. "So what's up with you all of the sudden? On the train you were having a fun go at me but now you look like Arthur didn't make it. What happened?"

Moody wasn't one to be gentlemanly when it came to vigilance and so tried his best to hear what the two women were saying.

Daphne could see this of course and felt even more uncomfortable. "I'm mentally disturbed remember?"

Tonks pursed her lips, "Only the Muggles believe that and you know it. Something must have happened to get you in this state. Even Harry noticed; not to mention the biggest eye-ball we know." She looked around Daphne to give Moody a nasty scowl which stated very clearly - 'Girl Talk.'

He raised a brow at the audacity of his protege and walked to the other end of the hall to observe them from there.

Tonks looked back at Daphne with expectancy.

"Nothing happened Tonks. I haven't been sleeping much and I've been worrying a whole lot more. The truth is I can't wait to go back and take a long, long nap." She uncrossed her arms and walked towards Moody so that Tonks couldn't ask her anything else.

After another short interval of not much being said between the three mismatched companions, the youths of their party came walking out looking disappointed. Moody and Tonks immediately walked in and closed the door behind them, looking decidedly serious.

"Fine," said Fred rummaging through his pockets. "Be like that. Don't tell us anything."

"Looking for these?" asked George, holding up the famous Extendable Ears (Daphne took one look and knew exactly what they were).

"You read my mind," said Fred, grinning. "Let's see if St. Mungo's puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?"

"You don't want to do that." Daphne said quietly.

Everyone looked up. After a pause, a pensive George decided to snoop. "You know, you'd think they'd have invited you in as well. Just what kind of work do you do for the Order?"

"You, really, don't want to know." She replied evenly.

"Oh George why don't you just come out and ask what you really want to know: you sound like a bloody first year trying to beat around the cauldron." Ginny said rolling her eyes exaggeratedly.

Fred and George looked outraged for a moment, both opening their mouths to speak at the same time before Ginny beat them to it again.

"They're trying to get out of you if the rumors are true."

Fred looked at his sister reproachfully for a split second, then returned his gaze back to Daphne curiously.

She raised a brow. "Really? And what rumors might that be?"

Ginny looked hesitant for a moment, then continued. "That you don't really work for the Order at all. That you're really just staying at Headquarters for…"

"Ginny. Come on, we're going to miss the good part," Fred distracted, not wanting all hell to break loose.

Daphne paled however, knowing exactly what the girl was referring to. So the Order members were gossiping about her and Sirius, were they? It only made sense: she never joined Order meetings, Tonks (being the romantic she was) had been making encouraging insinuations for weeks and Molly had been sending her letters trying to get her to stay with them for a while now. As a witch, Molly had been raised very old fashioned and, though she was one of the few who knew about the research, she still thought it improper that Daphne stay alone at Grimmauld Place with Sirius. It didn't help that she didn't approve of him in general either. Daphne found all this highly offensive. She didn't blame them, but she still felt ill used.

She looked upon the twins in front of her with a glacial stoniness worthy of Snape. "I see."

The twins shrunk slightly under the oppressing aura she was giving off and regretted bringing such a delicate issue out in the open like that. They quickly unraveled the extendable ears as if nothing had happened and passed them round, trying to avoid her gaze which was still trained on them.

Harry had been watching intently since all this had a lot to do with his godfather. He felt utterly pathetic that she had been pressed by their nosiness. He honestly didn't mind at all if she had a relationship going with Sirius, married or not. He thought it was great that Sirius had constant company and loved the idea of his godfather having someone special by his side. He knew, however, that in the wizarding world things like that mattered still: and the fact that she was living under her supposed beau's roof alone with him was highly scandalous. He thought it was somewhat unfair: Sirius and Daphne couldn't even get married if they wanted to. Sirius was wanted in the entire wizarding world and would be Kissed on sight if he tried to go about things in the proper way. And Harry had heard Tonks make reference to the fact that Daphne was also wanted in the Muggle world as well. In his mind, living in hiding together was a sought couple's only option. He shifted on his feet, giving her an apologetic look before taking the proffered extendable ear.

Daphne watched as they all partook in spying in on a conversation she knew they would regret hearing. She watched as the blood drained from Harry's face and the others looked at him with something akin to fear stretched across their faces. 'He knows' she thought. There wasn't much she could do about it. She couldn't have taken the ears away from them if she'd wanted to, seeing as how she couldn't control her own magic. She also couldn't comfort Harry: she wouldn't lie to him and it wasn't her place to pet and console him either. She had barely met him and that was his friend's job: if they had the back bone to do it that is.

Daphne had seen Arthur for only a few minutes before they left. She was considerably distracted from her earlier brush with her past by the disturbing information that she was the object of open ridicule and the disturbing conviction that Harry considered himself a danger to his friends. With her mind numbly whirling with worry and relief all at once, she could face Arthur with better candour than before. She smiled on him and shared his joyful mood.

"Bet you knew I'd be alright." He surreptitiously whispered to her, likewise being one of the few who knew of her condition through Molly.

"I've been blocking it actually." She grimaced at her own failure, but Arthur only smiled comfortingly and patted her on the hand.

On the way home she noticed Harry's acute despondence, as did Molly of course. He refused to admit anything was wrong however and went straight to his room when they arrived home.

She sighed at that depressing situation which she could do little about at present. The fact that Harry now knew he had an unnatural spiritual connection with the darkest wizard of all time would only worry Sirius more and she didn't want to go further down that path with him anyway. She also decided to leave well enough alone as far as the 'rumours' went. If Sirius found out he'd probably get a kick out of it and tease her to no end.

She hadn't been lying to Tonks when she said she craved a long nap. She therefore trudged up the worn stair case, hoping she wouldn't walk headlong into a talkative Sirius. She was, however, unlucky in life as always. He practically raced her to the library for a chat on how the outing went. He had been grievously jealous of the trip all together: so much so that he was more concerned with the climate outside than Arthur's immediate health. Daphne actually giggled at his misplaced ardour and indulged him. After a time though she couldn't help but confide in her friend.

"I saw my father today." She said when there was a reasonable pause.

His head shot up. He had an almost manic look on his face: as if he wanted to meet the gentleman himself. "What did he say?" Sirius asked in a low voice which sounded more like a growl than anything else. She saw his hands close unconsciously into fists.

"He said nothing. Moody forced me into St. Mungo's before he could reach us…" Her eyes filled with morbid tears for the hundredth time. "I saw him blink trying to see where I had gone so fast. He looked so determined to speak with me: he recognized me the very instant he saw me."

Sirius took a deep breath and began pacing in front of her as he spoke, "Good riddance if you ask me. That man doesn't deserve to speak with you after the way he handled the situation. He betrayed you Daphne! He betrayed you, and now he wants to speak with you? He has no right to come along and appear back into your life after he massively ruined it! Not now: you're doing well here, with us, and he has no right to show up now. He had his chance to take care of you, and look how he bungled it!" Sirius was fairly shouting now, pointing at an absent foe to emphasize his point.

Daphne rubbed at her splitting headache, looking at Sirius mournfully. She almost agreed with him though she didn't want to. She wanted to believe her father had had a change of heart. She wanted to believe he had changed and that he would be as he used to be. But life had taught her better. It had taught her that such expectations would always be disappointed. She was grateful for what she did have at present: Sirius and the Weasleys and Severus. She would not gamble all of them in exchange for the chance that her father had seen the error of his ways. She would not seek him out now.

Sirius forcefully sat next to her, gathering up her hands in his as he did. "Daphne, look at me Love." He made sure to gain eye contact before he continued in an earnest voice. "He's not worth it. He's not worth all the grief he's already caused you, and most certainly will cause you, if you let him get his hooks back in you again. Do you understand?"

"I know Sirius. You don't have to worry, I won't allow it to happen again."

"And neither will I." He said with conviction. "I'll tie you down before I'll let you go looking for some kind of heart to heart with him."

She smiled a sad smile and squeezed his hand before retreating to finally get some rest, leaving him to stare after her in concern.

The next twenty-four hours passed with hide nor hair being seen of Harry. She knew he was going to try to run away: her perceptions were gradually becoming fine-tuned again and she saw it. She kept a close watch on him through her mind's eye: tracking his emotions and thought patterns on her incredibly accurate radar. At one point she felt it like a pierce through her chest - he was walking out the door. She ran to his room, but relaxed when she heard him arguing with Phineas Nigellus. She sighed in relief when she realized Dumbledore had accounted for the boy's rash nature. There would be no running away. She wondered though how long they would all let him sulk in despair. Certainly some-one had a kind word, or slap, for him. He needed to snap out of his stupor. She knew he thought he himself had physically harmed Arthur. Whatever was the problem with his spiritual state, she knew that wasn't the case and he needed to be reassured of that. But no-one seemed to be giving him what he needed. They all thought it best to politely leave him to himself: unperceptive folk! Did they not realize what he was putting himself through? Well she did, and she wasn't going to stand by and watch this for very much longer. Just about when she had resolved on speaking to him herself, they received a visitor.

Hermione Granger seemed like a sensible girl, and Daphne knew the boy's rescue had come at last. The second Hermione walked through the door she felt a weight lift.

Hermione looked at her curiously and politely shook hands with her. Being that Hermione didn't have the benefit of the Weasley's constant connection with the Order, she had no idea of the scandalous rumours and treated Daphne with all manner of respect. Daphne was grateful and smiled on her graciously. Hermione set off with her friends after a short greeting to everyone, and by dinner time Harry graced the kitchen table with the hunger of a lion. Daphne shook her head in amusement.

It was time to give up the angst for one holiday. Daphne hadn't experienced a normal Christmas in over fifteen years, and she intended to make Sirius proud. She helped him deck the halls and even came up with the ridiculous idea of putting Santa hats on the permanent elf heads dismally hanging about. Sirius laughed until his stomach ached and furthered the joke with Santa beards.

On Christmas Day she awoke with a small mountain of presents at the foot of her bed. She smiled in amazement. She was truly touched. She slowly reached for the present resting on top of the pile with both hands, as if she didn't treat it with care it would shatter. It was from Sirius. She opened the wrapping one spello-tape at a time to ensure that it did not rip. A long deep kanoa brown wooden box with a smooth surface was revealed to her. She ran her hand along the top just to cherish the beauty of the box alone. Wondering what was inside however, she carefully opened it and gasped. Inside was the most exquisite looking flute she'd ever seen. It looked as if it was made of gold and crystal with an almost blinding sparkle to it: clearly it was magical. She lifted it in her hands, and though it looked quite thick and heavy, it was lighter than a feather. She decided to give it a go, and blew tentatively through it. The sound was unearthly. Like most other flutes it had that delicate soothing quality, but it also had an heart-wrenching echo which fluttered passed the individual note she blew like some kind of invisible butterfly. She felt as if that simple crude note of hers, which was untalented, had put her under some sort of spell. She was enchanted by the sound. She put it back in its case as if it was made of glass, and picked up the card. It had a dorky looking little cherub on it which was totally unsuitable for the gift it escorted: Sirius's idea of a joke she supposed.

"Remus and I thought this beautiful item would suit you. I would have given you Mum's old brouch, but not even I appreciate it. This is much better. Love, Padfoot-"

She smiled at the image she received, via perception, of the two Marauders arguing over their Christmas shopping together and put it aside to fetch the next present.

Tonks, of course. She wouldn't miss out on sending over a present. It turned out to be a sweat-heart photo album. "To begin a memorabilia tradition at Grimmauld Place…" the card said. Right. She was glad she had thought to use the same tactic. She smiled wickedly when she thought about the look on her friend's face when she received a dating book for a present.

Molly and Arthur had given her a surprisingly attractive button up wool sweater with a large hummingbird embroidered on the right flap along with a basket full of mince pies.

The twins she supposed wanted to atone for their atrocious behaviour at St. Mungo's. Thus she received a rather large box of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes treats - "To use on Sirius if and when you have a row." She laughed and put it aside.

Ginny gave her a book entitled, 'Legend's Witches - Extraordinary And Infamous Witches Throughout The Ages.' She looked at it curiously grateful that someone had thought to give her a book on Wizarding history. Though Ginny didn't know it, she truly gave Daphne a useful gift. In this book she found witches, as in Muggle cultures, whom had masqueraded as men. Others had been dark witches who had come up with some of the most horrible spells: such as the terrible German Awefundhiem spell which destroyed its victims slowly. Some had been the cause for Wizarding wars while others had lead whole countries to freedom. One witch called Dellila Uralius had tamed wild beasts, including the Hungarian Horntail dragon, with a single touch. Unfortunately the book, nor any other source, could explain how she did it since she'd lived some time during the dark ages.

Harry, Ronald and Hermione's gift was last. She opened it just as carefully as she had opened the others, cherishing the thought from each of them just as dearly. It was an assortment of perfumes. She smiled at the gift: clearly a boy's gift. Hermione had only known she existed for a day, and therefore could only add her name to her friend's gift for Daphne. The perfumes were all encased in elaborate and beautiful bottles, but none of them smelled genuinely pleasant. They had done their best without a woman's opinion, and she appreciated the clumsy gift all the more for that.

She felt overwhelmed with the warm feeling blossoming in her bosom. She took all of her gifts with an almost sad smile effused over her features and set them all neatly in her cabinet for safe keeping. Such joy would not allow her to stop smiling or tearing up. She wiped at her happy tears and changed for Christmas breakfast, donning Molly's home knit sweater.

Meanwhile in the empty halls of Hogwarts, Severus billowed imposingly without so much as a thought for such silly things as Christmas. He reached the Great Hall for breakfast and sat down at the ridiculously garland adorned table with the rest of the ridiculously smiling staff. He was just about to viciously stab a sausage when two owls came soaring through a window carrying among them a large package. He assumed it was Dumbledore's doing: the man could never survive a Christmas without countless gifts from staff, ministry officials, friends and Gods only knew how many countless admirers. Even with the public's outlook on politics at present, there were still many dunderheads out there. So it was only more baffling for him when the owls stupidly settled in front of his own plate to deliver their load. He tried to bat them away towards his mentor's place setting but they simply refused to shove off.

Dumbledore looked amused at the spectacle. He found himself chuckling when it became a battle of wills between man and beast: the owls relentlessly shoving the package at the Potions Master while he in turn resorted to muttered curses. "Severus I do believe they wish to deliver the package to none but you."

Severus scowled. "Blast it all, I'll take the package." Severus rose snatching the infernal thing and billowing away without even a bite of breakfast: his appetite having vacated his body.

When he arrived in the dungeons he sat at his desk and took in the offending article. It was wrapped in good wholesome brown paper and a simple string tie. He tentatively undid it and proceeded to open the mailing box. Inside there was a smaller box wrapped in the same brown paper. He rolled his eyes and ripped it off revealing a highly polished black wooden case with golden hinges and matching locks. On top lay a card displaying an ancient and utterly abandon looking stone chapel with dried black shrubs scattered artistically about the snow covered landscape. Interesting. He opened the card and looked immediately to the signature. He groaned at the realization of who had sent the package. Here he thought she was a girl with some sense.

Dear Professor,

I would not normally impose on you with holiday cheer I know is unwelcome, but this item seemed entirely too adequate to pass up. I may not get another opportunity to present you with such a fitting gift, nor to show you my gratitude for the research you've volunteered in my favor. I thank you for said volunteered time, and do not expect to be compensated with return gifts. I sincerely hope you enjoy your time off this season,

Daphne Martin

He grudgingly had to admit his curiosity was piqued now. With a sigh of annoyance at his own childishness he reached for the case…

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it. And don't worry, I do not intend to neglect good old Voldi during Christmas time. Till next time, Thanks for reading…


	10. Christmas Visits

Special Thanks to my beta, Moonlight Wanderer 313

Chapter 10 - Christmas Visits

Daphne came down that morning to see Molly crying bitterly. As it happened, her third son, Percy, had taken the liberty of sending back his Christmas presents. Daphne didn't think anything could tug at her light-heartedness for the day, but as always she was woefully wrong. The sight of two enthusiastically defensive twins assaulting a weepy Molly wiped the smile right off her face.

'He's nothing more than a humungous pile of rat droppings,' and 'Don't worry Mum, we'll send him something he'll not forget in an age,' were only some of the 'consoling' things they were assuring her of. Daphne rolled her eyes and, along with Remus, batted the well meaning boys away so that they might succeed in some semblance of comfort for Mrs. Weasley.

"He'll come round Molly," Remus tried, which only made her sob harder.

Daphne didn't know what to do really. She did sense a change of heart somewhere along the way, but it was only after many trials and tribulations for the young man. He would see the light, but he'd first have to cross the darkness. That was to come to pass only after a world of suffering for many, and so she kept her mouth shut about her depressing preview into the annals of fate. Instead she put an affectionate hand on Molly's shoulder, rubbing soothing circles, while Remus made and served them tea.

After a reasonable pause Remus tried a new tact. "Here you are." He said, handing them both his presents for the day.

He'd gotten Molly a beautiful purple pendant hanging on a silver chain with magical properties meant to ward off accidents. Akin to a Remembrall, it shined bright lavender when trouble was brewing about her. For the mother of a houseful of sons, this was indeed a marvellously useful gift. Molly smiled, truly touched by Remus's gallantry and held it out for Daphne to see.

Daphne chuckled wryly at the necklace while examining its enthrallingly carved dragons which graced the silver frame of the precious stone. She then turned to her own gift, objecting on the grounds that he'd already given her a joint gift with Sirius, but he would have none of it.

"Nonsense. I never agree with Sirius on anything. This is what I thought you'd like best," he pointed confidently at the box she held.

She smiled in spite of herself and began opening her new present. It was a small book on Wizarding traditions of Europe. Her smile widened: Remus was always the most thoughtful of the bunch. "Thank you Remus."

She handed over the muggle pocket watch she'd bought for him with Sirius's Christmas loan. She had picked out an antique golden beauty. She'd always liked those old round pieces of art hanging off conductor's waistcoats in muggle movies and she couldn't think of a better gift for someone as quiet and solid as Remus. She'd had it inscribed with the words, 'time will tell. DM-'

He liked it immediately.

She smiled pensively, wondering if she'd done as well with Severus's gift. She knew she'd pegged him right; she just didn't know if he'd let himself respond sincerely to it since it was a gift given with the holiday cheer he loathed so much.

She had sent off Arthur's gift along with Severus's and Tonks' at the Owl Post Office and had already given everyone else their gifts since they were all staying there. The house was magically enchanted to place all gifts at the foot of their receiver's bed by dawn. She had got everyone, besides the two Marauders and Severus, simple gifts as she didn't want to spent too much of Sirius's money. And because it was against her principles to buy Sirius a gift with his own money, she'd given him something entirely special. The years spent with nothing but her father's knife for company had been a good thing for her skill with it, and had enabled her to carve Sirius a most exclusive memento. It was a wooden plaque no bigger than his old harmonica, only it had three figures on it. The majestic looking forms of a buck pawing the ground, a wolf baying at the moon, and a dog poised for an obvious take off, dominated the piece of wood above elegant script which read, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.' She was sure it would be completely to his liking. She had put something of a dangerous and brilliant look to her carvings, making them very appealing to the kind of character that was Sirius. She had of course excluded Peter Pettigrew, and only hoped the plaque wouldn't bring up memories of him.

She was reassured when she saw the look on Sirius's face as he entered the kitchen. He went straight to her and gave her the kind of bear hug that she thought would squeeze the life out of her, before thanking her with a signature wink. She in turn thanked him of course and the morning was spent eating, conversing and otherwise making merry. Daphne laughed amusedly when Hermione dragged a reluctant Ron and Harry to give Kreacher a gift. He was absent from his usual apartment under the boiler and so they all didn't have to suffer his Christmas greeting.

"Not messing around Molly dear," said Mr. Weasley imploringly. "It was just - just something Pye and I thought we'd try - only, most unfortunately - well, with these particular kinds of wounds - it doesn't seem to work as well as we'd hoped -"

"Meaning?"

Daphne sat by Arthur's bedside, watching almost dejectedly as everyone began finding convenient little reasons to vacate that corner of the ward: Lupin strolling away to speak to the werewolf in the next bed while Bill and the twins sauntered off to grab a spot of tea. She supposed it was only right to stay behind as the argument ensued, if only to make certain that Arthur didn't end up with even more incurable bites, courtesy of Mrs. Weasley: the fiercest homemaker Great Brittan had ever seen.

"Well …well, I don't know whether you know what - what stitches are?"

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together," said Mrs. Weasley with a snort of mirthless laughter, "but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid-"

"I fancy a cup of tea too," said Harry, jumping to his feet, followed by the rest of the golden trio and Ginny.

Daphne was beginning to feel a little left out.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?"

She winced. She was now the only thing sitting between the irate Molly and a fidgety Arthur. She felt like a prisoner standing before a firing squad. She opened her eyes fractionally to see Molly practically breathing smoke from her inflamed nostrils and was morbidly reminded of Delilah and her Hungarian Horntails. "Molly, it usually does work quite well," said Daphne gently as Arthur nodded profusely. "I was raised by Muggles, and you'll grant I know their customs and outcomes to said customs very well…"

Arthur continued to agree, so much so that Daphne thought he'd get a cramp in his neck.

Molly didn't give any sign that she'd heard her young friend. She only stared Arthur down hideously and took a deep breath which was obviously taken to enable more shouting.

Daphne looked to the floor wishing she could cover her ears as the storm descended upon them. She distantly heard Fed or George's voice in the back of her mind. 'The idiots are letting her get into her stride. You've got to head her off early, otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours.' She didn't know where that had come from, but she suspected it was something he'd probably said in the past, seeing as how he knew his mother's anger quite personally.

After some time, of which felt like an eternity to Daphne, the others began trickling back. Bill and the twins had been busy in the tea room flirting with one of the intern healers: a young brunette who loved faux magic tricks. Remus had spent all his time whispering with the unfortunate fellow in the adjacent bed, while Harry and his friends had visited someone named Longbottom and an old teacher in the permanent spell damage ward. The latter group seemed very depressed. Daphne wondered what could possibly have gotten the youngest of their party to look so upset. She caught a distant glimpse of a plump little toddler with raven hair wailing in a crib while the shadows of horrible torture shown gruesomely on the wall. She shook her head as she heard cackling mirth while shrieks of pain echoed in her ears, and she felt somehow helpless and faithless. Not her own lack of faith, but someone else's. She was both disturbed and confused by the images. How could such a horrific scene tie in with four teens visiting a few old friends at hospital?

When Snape arrived at the strong hold, quite baffled at being summoned on Christmas day, he was met with the sight of his Lord, bent over the throne like chair at an uncomfortable angle, weeping softly. He blanched slightly and carefully chose to turn from the room in an attempt to escape unnoticed: it would not do for him to see the tyrant so. He didn't relish the thought of being executed for witness offence.

"Snape!"

Too late. The tyrant rose and made his way over to his trusted Death Eater as slowly and desperately as a dying man would make his way to a glass of water. Snape turned to face Voldemort and bowed respectfully, "My Lord."

"Snape." He didn't seem to want to elaborate as he only stared at Severus with bulging eyes.

Severus took full advantage of the pause to assess the situation and analyze what the safest course of action would be. Without missing a beat or showing emotion of any kind he asked, "Yes My Lord, what is your will?"

"Snape… I must… Why now? Why does she plague me now, after all that's happened? Why?" These were not rhetorical questions: he looked to Severus for a definite answer which was unlikely to come swiftly.

"Whom, My Lord?"

The disturbed man's eyes snapped up to meet Severus's with intensity. "Agatha! I must find out why. You see, she's dead, but she's not satisfied with death or haunting. No, no… she wants life, she's got life: all fifty decaying years of it… but she hasn't aged Severus! No she hasn't aged…"

Severus looked about, not really expecting to see an un-aged dead woman, but giving it a shot all the same. "Whence comes she, My Lord: I do not see her now."

"No, you wouldn't… She only shows herself to me. She loved me you see. She loved who I was then, not who I am now, though I have not changed really, hahahahaha…. But she's changed Severus! Oh she's changed worlds."

Severus felt the large precious crystal Daphne had given him through the thick fabric of his robe's pocket and internally sighed.

He was excellent at thinking and listening all at once and used the talent to look attentive to his master's continued ravings as he thought of that morning's events. He had expected some ridiculous memento, or some useful object for his potions work, but what she had found for him was altogether more important.

It was a very rare ingot: obscure in origin. There were only three known pieces of this sort in existence. These crystal ingots were said to have unprecedented magical properties of protection. If one looked close enough, protective runes could be seen suspended within them: forged from an unknown substance. Their location and investigation also happened to be one of Agatha Glennway's last historical endeavors. In her journal she had marked it 'unsolved,' and Severus wondered how Daphne had come to know of it: if she in fact knew the crystal pertained to Miss Glennway. Most seers had to at least have heard of what they dreamed about before receiving specifics. Regardless, she had known enough to determine that he would value this gift indeed. She had gone straight to the dragon's lair, somehow knowing where to find the missing artifact in the woman's last project. It made sense after all, that Miss Glennway would have hidden it somewhere on her own ground, in this case her home town. Daphne's note within the case read as follows:

Professor,

This is a genuine Norseman ingot dating back to the Bronze Age. You needn't worry of its authenticity: it is what it appears to be. It was found deep within the bronze mine of Pary Mountain in Amlwch Port, Wales. It was found in a box bearing a family seal embellished with the letter 'G.' The box was destroyed as the artifact itself was passed along, but luckily it has survived. I do hope you find it agreeable.

Snape had been, quite frankly, astonished that she had divined what exactly he would need for his personal mission; wondering if she knew the full import of what she had done for him. How on earth had she even gotten a hold of it? Something like this would have been priceless and way out of reach for a magically atrophied young woman who knew little of the magical world. He had been examining the fascinating artifact and its runes (it was by far the purest form of crystal he had ever seen), when he was summoned. He, of course, normally would have left something so valuable behind and out of the Dark Lord's reach, but it was one of the crystal's properties after all to hide itself and protect its wearer. Severus was quite glad he had thought to bring it actually: it might well get him out of this ludicrous situation unscathed.

"Snape, Snape, I must rid myself of her. She's supposed to be dead! I thought she was…"

"If I may, Sir, perhaps you ought to let me view your encounters with Miss Glennway in the form of a pensive memory: so that I might humbly help you divine a solution to this new problem."

Voldemort looked wary for a moment as an insecure child unsure of an adult's direction. Then, "I expect you to think of something forthcoming Severus! I won't be put off or kept waiting by inept lack of theory."

"Certainly not Sir."

Slowly the Dark Lord conjured a pensive on a pedestal and withdrew his most prominent memory of the new and gruesome Agatha for Snape's capable viewing. "I expect your discretion Snape. The sentence for carelessness in this matter is treason, and the penalty: death by continuous Cruciatus exposure, after full interrogation methods."

"You have my unyielding loyalty, My Lord. Never will this information leave my lips."

Voldemort gave him a glare that spoke authority and gestured for him to proceed. Snape bowed and gracefully lowered himself to the pensive. Once inside, he saw the same room he stood in now; only it was occupied by a very exhausted Voldemort and someone else. The shock and horror produced a frown on Snape's countenance as he looked upon the girl he had been investigating for the past weeks. She was indeed horrific to behold. Her appearance reminded him of something his favorite author, the famed Edgar Allen Poe, would imagine in his most disturbing nightmares. The poor mad fellow had been obsessed with death after all, and Snape could see quite plainly that this entity was by no means alive, as Lord Voldemort seemed to think. She was no ghost, but she was most definitely dead. It was not a normal face of death however, but a malignant one. She possessed all the qualities of partially developed death enhanced by ten, and yet still recognizable. He watched as she sauntered up to her love and began taunting him (Snape of course took note that she had walked: she hadn't floated as most ghosts do).

"What has My Heart in mind for today? A little Christmas feast with Mrs. Lovett of Fleet Street, or perhaps a little holiday fear for the good people of Hogsmeade?"

"Agatha, I must stay in the Strong Hold this day. You know that."

"Oh but you always did enjoy Christmas so…" she cooed. "Unwrapping special artifacts from Madagascar's undisturbed heritage sites, and discussing history's mysteries… remember … remember." She was whispering in his ear now almost lovingly. "Remember who always got you the gifts you appreciated most? Remember how you would always complain on how everyone didn't know you well enough to know you hated most ridiculousness handed out each year." She started to laugh.

Severus raised a brow: even he had to admit, that was the most attractive laugh he had ever heard on any female. It was soft and just the right pitch; but there was something off about it too - it was very sarcastic. Severus was not a man to be effected by much: the world could come crashing down about him, and he would move forward without so much as a twitch. But her chilling laugh, made even him feel empty inside. He winced at the thought of having to hear the beautiful sound corrupted in such a way often, as did his master. So it was no surprise to him to see great soppy tears leaking from the latter's eyes as he shut them tightly, trying to drown out her voice.

She finally ceased and continued. "You always were a fool for my charms. No matter what it was I had the notion to gift you, you always accepted it with adoration. Tell me Tom, do you still have some of dear old Agatha's trinkets?"

"I was no fool! I enjoyed your gifts, because they were given freely; not fearfully! And yes. I would have kept all of them, had I not been forced to hide as half a man for thirteen years! That little half-breed will pay for that."

"Hahahaha. Do you forget Tom, that what you describe as a 'half-breed' is exactly what you and I are? I never could understand your blatant hypocrisy on that head!" She reached her hand around his shoulder falsely soothingly and cooed in his ear, "Half-breed."

He shuddered violently and flung her grasp off his shoulder while backing off his chair to put some distance between them. "Lay not a hand on me! Never again do I wish to feel your touch witch!"

Her expression slowly hardened to one of venomous hatred. Her eyes glowed burgundy for the briefest of moments before returning to their original dead dull blue. "You will one day BEG for my company rather than the fate you've mapped for yourself. I warn you Tom. You think my presence now is unpleasant? You will one day feel the fires of your own hell, withering away the small bit of soul you've got left." The pause which ensued was almost painful before she brightened once more, "But until that day comes, I shall have the diversion of 'your' company." She again began her haunting laughter, and as Snape saw Voldemort breakdown and point his wand at his own forearm preparing to summon, the memory began swirling and dissolving.

Severus had never witnessed anything so disturbing in his life. Torture would be preferable to constant torment by that ghastly apparition. He remained stoic however when he pulled himself free of the memory. He had sworn to find a cure for this malady and departed forthwith. On his return to Hogwarts he immediately sought out Dumbledore and divulged his latest experience with the madman, bane of his life. He in turn showed his own pensive memory of the memory: so that Dumbledore could see for himself the depth of the Dark Lord's difficulty.

Dumbledore looked pensive as he stroked his long beard. "I have never heard of a deceased entity which takes such a form."

"Nor I Albus. The Dark Lord claimed he could feel her touch as solid, but that when he had attempted to strike her, she had been merely an image easily passed through."

They were both quiet for a time. Then Albus finished off with the expected. "Try to discover what exactly is happening here Severus. We must understand the full extent of her existence. It is certainly something to return to. Chop, chop."

Severus rolled his eyes at the old man's cheery Christmas vocabulary before he agreed and left to go visit Draco. Poppy had refused to let him travel home for his holiday until every ounce of him was completely cleared as healthy, so he was still taking residence in the hospital wing on Christmas day; presumably with an impossible amount of presents at the foot of his bead. Severus glided eerily through the hospital wing to the boy's bed and noticed with a smirk that his godson was gaining his strength back quite rapidly. In only six weeks, he was now able to function somewhat without constant help.

"Hello Godfather." He winced as he spoke and turned away with a half-hearted sneer. "To what do I owe the 'honour'?" He drawled.

Snape raised a brow. "I've come to ask you what exactly transpired the night you stupidly let yourself be ambushed." He said nothing further: expecting an answer.

Draco rolled his eyes as he looked pestilently about, avoiding his godfather's piercing eye. At last he surrendered to the inevitable. "I was told by Professor Umbridge that I should expect trouble in that corridor betwixt twelve and one. I'm head of the Inquisitorial Squad after all, Uncle Severus. She made reference to the fact that it would be someone I personally would dearly love to catch in the act. I immediately thought of Potter and was on my merry way," he finished sarcastically.

Snape continued to look in waiting, making it clear that Draco had not finished.

Draco huffed agitatedly and continued. "I then went to the corridor in question and that's the last thing I remember, alright. Flashes of dark smoke seem prominent in my mind but I really can't say what else happened or if anyone was there other than myself."

Severus looked offended still. "Draco," his asphyxiating gaze burned a hole in the side of Draco's face as he continued, "If a legitimate teacher at an upstanding school suspects impending mischief on the premises of said school, what would be that professor's first action?"

Draco marred his fine features with a hideous look, not wanting to answer the elementary question.

"Answer boy." Severus intoned dangerously.

Draco sighed and complied. "That professor would stop it at once, not sit about squandering time to call forth help of lower rank."

"Correct. Further more, that professor would not have sullied her office by stooping to goad you on with names. You should have known something was wrong the moment she tried to bribe you with your known rival's capture. I'm disappointed in you Draco. You are in bad need of some sharpening up, and I expect you to work on this. In the coming years you may need it more than you imagine. One thing you must, never, forget is that 'no-one' is entirely trust worthy. If need be look the noun up in Hogwarts dictionary - No-One, means just that. Is that clear?"

Draco looked as if he wanted to spit, he was so annoyed with the chastening, but he only replied, "Yes Sir."

"Good. Get well Draco. I'm not entirely sure your mother's heart can take another slip like this. Good day." And without waiting for a reply, he stormed off back to his comfortably plain and empty dungeons devoid of any ridiculous holiday cheer or people. He intended to investigate that crystal ingot further, and pay a visit to Daphne as soon as possible. He now must have a few words with her, and not about her condition.

Author's Note: Just in case anyone missed it, the reference to George's line about his mother, "You've got to head her off early, or else she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours," was written early on in the fifth book - during the scene when they are all clearing out the doxies in Sirius's house. Molly had begun shouting at Mungdungus for bringing stolen cauldrons to Headquarters. Also, Daphne's vision of torture when she thinks of the golden trio's visit in the permanent spell damage ward was about Neville witnessing his parents assault by Bellatrix. Anyhow, hope you all liked it, Thanks for reading.


	11. Occlumency and Other Issues

Chapter 11 - Occlumency and other issues

Contrary to popular belief, Kreacher had not died in the attic. He had shown up days after his disappearance as insulting as ever, but slightly more bearable because of his quietness. He seemed to be thinking and keeping himself to himself now-a-days. This was fine by everyone. It would even have been an improvement in daily life had it not been for the Master's of the house shift in mood.

As Christmas passed, Grimmauld Place became more and more dejected as Sirius became more aloof. Daphne knew it was because of his godson's impending departure back to Hogwarts. It was now her turn to scratch on his door with infrequent and muttered responses. She was starting to worry. The image of herself bodily blocking his passage through the front door in a fit of desperate uselessness was plaguing her mind constantly and she only wondered when that particular vision would be realized.

She had been thinking of this despondently as she helped Molly tidy the kitchen when there sounded a knock on the front door.

"Oh thank the gods whoever it is had enough sense not to ring the door bell. Would you answer it Dear?"

Daphne nodded automatically and made her way up the stairs to the ground floor. She was dreading seeing which ever order member it was: they would either be distant and clipped with her or overly and insincerely sweet. Her reputation was becoming truly atrocious in consequence to her continued residence with Sirius. She wished they would just bugger off or look at themselves before judging others for moral offences. She would not cower in the face of ostracism however. She steeled herself to answer the door with her head held high. So she was doubly surprised and unreasonably relieved to find Severus's brutally honest and un-judgemental presence.

"Professor," she said, showing her pleasant surprise in her voice. "Please come in." She moved aside to permit him entry.

"Miss Martin." He bowed before stepping forward.

"I didn't know of an order meeting today. Are you here for…"

He cut her off before she could finish her hopeful question. "I am here today on business with Potter actually."

"Oh." She wondered what he could possibly want with Harry, but didn't pry. "Can I get you a cup of tea in the kitchen before I call him down?"

"And what may I ask, do 'you' want with my godson?" Sirius came stalking down the stairs from the shadows like some wild animal about to pounce. Daphne sometimes wondered if he didn't indeed possess some seer's blood hidden behind all that glamour and cavalier: his coming down at that point in time, after such a long absence, would suggest it.

Snape raised a brow. "Black. (he put a ridiculous amount of emphasis on the name as always) Dumbledore has sent me to speak to the boy regarding a change in arrangements."

Daphne could already feel the current of tension pouring between them in gales.

Severus replied to her aforementioned polite suggestion while sneering at his former schoolmate. "That won't be necessary Miss Martin. The library would be preferable: I am to see him alone."

"Not a chance Snape!" They glared at each other for a moment: neither of them wanting to back down; but Sirius's voice held the sort of parental finality not to be trifled with unless the offender wanted to bring about disaster. "Lead the way Daph," Sirius said not taking his eyes away from Snape's.

Daphne frowned in concern at having to disregard Severus so blatantly, but she held her piece; carefully stepping between them in passing before leading them to the kitchen.

"Molly would you please call Harry down? The Professor wants a word with him," Daphne asked, hoping she could convey some of her need to stay so as not to insult the family's patriarch with such a menial request. She felt that Sirius had to be watched at this point. His own demons clouded his judgement already, and to be faced with Severus now was not advisable. At least she had some level of restraint on Sirius's temper.

Molly however was no dummy and could catch the drift. She laid a reassuring hand on Daphne's. "Of course Dear." She turned back when she reached the door, "The children and I are off to collect Arthur. We'll be back soon." She took one last look at the lot of them and left.

Once they were all alone Daphne set about making the all-purpose calming draught… Tea. As she watched them take seats at the kitchen table she had a sinking feeling she was going to have to intervene physically, and sadly her feelings usually were not questionable. She stood to the side of the stove, folding her hands neatly in front of her: from her vantage point she could step forward quickly if she needed to.

Snape gracefully produced a letter, extending it to Sirius with a scathing expression.

"What's this?" Sirius spat, looking at it as if it was a sample of dragon dung.

"A letter penned by Albus Dumbledore, expressing the authority I have."

"To do what exactly?" Sirius asked sharply. Snape only raised a brow at the obvious and Sirius rolled his eyes before tearing open the letter. He frowned in thought as he read the parchment. "He wants you to teach him Occlumency?" he asked gravely raising his eyes to Snape. "Why?"

"I would prefer not to repeat myself Black. If you wish to hear this information you had better wait for the main ingredient."

Sirius glared then looked away. The insult of not paying his guest the courtesy of his attention was not lost on Severus. He likewise looked away from his host in solemn silence. Instead he looked to Daphne standing in her corner preparing the tea things. She was the only one in the entire house with becoming manners and sense of any kind. Molly was a tad too hospitable for his taste, unlike Daphne who had a quiet way about her. She was a Lady; a lady whom didn't deserve to be in constant company with a cad like Black.

He watched her stoically as she placed a cup of tea in front of him and another in front of said cad. They each gave their thank-you's as if the other was not present and Daphne walked back to her corner in wait.

Moments later Harry barged in ungracefully and with an unsure look on his face. "Er…" he said to announce his presence.

"Sit down Potter," said Snape in his usual low and ominous baritone.

"You know," said Sirius loudly, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house you see."

An ugly flush suffused Snape's pallid face as Harry took a seat across from him and next to Sirius. "I was supposed to see you alone Potter," said Snape, the familiar sneer curling his mouth, "but Black.."

"I'm his godfather!" said Sirius louder than ever.

"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," said Snape whose eyes held dark vengeance. His voice, in contrast to Sirius's, was becoming more and more quietly waspish, "but by all means, stay Black. I know you like to feel… involved." He laid a delicate stress on the last word.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Merely that I am sure you must feel…frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing, 'useful,' for the Order."

Daphne looked away in frustration: Severus was only stirring up Sirius's already decaying dignity. She became even more worried when she saw the colour drain from Sirius's face.

Snape's lip curled in triumph as he turned to Harry. "The headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."

"Study what?" said Harry blankly.

"Occlumency, Potter. The magical defence of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."

Daphne forgot about Sirius for a moment as she felt Harry's heart plummet. Though he remained steady in his seat, there was a dramatic surge of thought and frantic shortness of breath. She knew he was contemplating as fast as he could whether his original suspicions of possession were true.

"Why do I have to study Occlu-thing?" he blurted.

"Because the headmaster thinks it a good idea," said Snape smoothly. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Who's going to be teaching me?"

Snape again raised a brow, "I am."

Harry's eyes shot towards Sirius for what seemed like some form of last plea for support.

"Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" asked Sirius aggressively, "Why you?"

"I suppose because it is a headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks," said Snape silkily. "I assure you I did not beg for the job." He got to his feet. "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking Remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them." He turned to Daphne as if to speak when he was interrupted.

"Wait a moment."

Snape turned back to face his host with a sneer. "I am in rather a hurry Black…unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time…"

"I'll get to the point then." said Sirius standing up.

Daphne's breath came up short when Severus balled his fists around the handle of his wand in the pocket of his cloak.

"If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you'll have me to answer to," Sirius said with a deadly serious tone.

"How touching. But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?"

"Yes, I have," said Sirius with pride.

"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly.

Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table towards Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own.

In two swift strides she was at their side clutching Sirius's shoulder: he not taking any notice of her.

Severus likewise failed to notice her nearness as they were squaring up to each other. Sirius looked livid, Snape calculating: his eyes darting from Sirius's wand tip to his face.

"Sirius," Daphne intoned with warning as Harry stood abruptly.

"I've warned you 'Snivellus,'" Sirius said, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better-"

Daphne squeezed her eyes shut in indignation.

"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape, "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?"

"Stop this! Both of you!" Daphne shouted with fire flaring her voice as she again yanked at Sirius's shoulder.

Standing strong, Sirius shot back. "Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform… gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?"

Sirius raised his wand.

"NO!" Harry yelled, vaulting over the table as Daphne forced herself between them; Harry throwing his arms in the fray for good measure.

"Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push past Daphne.

"Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.

"Daphne - Get - Out - Of - It!" snarled Sirius, jerking her arm painfully to one side as sparks flew from his fingertips. Harry chose this moment to grasp her other arm in an attempt to pull her to safety. She immediately felt nausea overtake her in reaction to him. She was however unwilling to retreat in either direction. She yanked against both parties as Sirius did the same and felt a sickening pull.

Her breathless gasp should have alerted Sirius that something was wrong, but he was too absorbed by his intended target that he only continued to try to dash her out of the way. She ground her teeth because of the pain. She thought the pressure on her discoloured arm would never end; until a decidedly more gentle pressure pulled her in a new direction.

Suddenly she went numb to it all, and was not aware of her standing location; though she could still feel the intense animosity like sparks of tension scorching the room. She could barely see through her watering eyes and so took a long breath and opened them wide.

When she looked up what she saw was a family of Weasleys, plus Hermione, starring at them with awed faces. She groaned, imagining the sight they posed. Sirius was currently pointing his wand at Snape with a murderous look (still not totally awake to the fact that Daphne was truly unwell), Harry was suspended between them all trying to act as shield for each, and Daphne was bent over: supported entirely by Severus's free arm as he likewise kept his wand arm trained on the Master of the house.

"Merlin's beard," said Mr. Weasley, looking concerned indeed. "What's going on here?"

Molly made a beeline for her young friend. Severus ignored her attempts to take Daphne off his hands. Instead he lowered his wand and glared for a moment at Sirius. His fury was palpable, touching everyone in the room. Sirius, though no longer pointing his wand into Snape's face, returned his glare with equal contempt.

Snape pocketed his wand and swept back across the room with Daphne in tow: displaying a sort of quiet command not to interfere. No-one interfered.

Sirius however, beginning to fear for his friend at the realization of what he had done, shouted, "Oye! Where do you think you're going with Daph!"

Snape turned at the door and faced Sirius with piercing eyes. "Miss Martin is my patient Black.," he said in a dangerous voice. "After your little sideshow, I find myself in need of assuring myself of her strength."

Though Sirius's hate boiled behind his eyes still, it was now joined by shame. He held his tongue as Severus took a dazed Daphne by her uninjured hand and led her to Grimmauld Place's agreed room of examination: the library.

Severus pushed her unceremoniously into a swishy sofa and began diagnostic spells. When he discovered that her bicep had actually been pulled he said nothing and remained deceptively stoic. He gently raised her sleeve and pulled the ailed arm out straight. With a loud "pop" the muscle shrunk back into shape, somewhat painfully. Daphne groaned. He quickly twisted her arm around to assert that she had no lasting damage and found only the bruises left by Sirius's grip. Those unfortunately would stay awhile since magic refused to remove them. Severus scowled down at them as the symbols of woman battering. Before visions of his father's handy-work could cloud his thoughts, he placed a glamour upon Daphne with a flick of his wand.

"Do you feel otherwise unwell Miss Martin?"

"No. Thank you." she breathed while rubbing her arm.

Snape rose and retrieved a glass of French wine from the liquor cabinet. He pushed it forcefully into her hand. "Here. Drink this: it shall restore some of your strength."

"Thank you," she said while she obediently drank from the glass.

Snape contemplated her for a moment. "Miss Martin. Though Black's (he drawled the name as if it tasted decidedly ill) man-handling of you was rough and quite unforgivable, it should not have put you in the state you suffered from…"

"It wasn't him Snape." Her face shone with concern. "Sometimes… I cannot come into bodily contact with Harry. I don't know what it is. I think he's the victim of some kind of parasite which I cannot stand." She looked up and into Snape's intense eyes, "I'm telling you this because I know I can trust you. I know you've reformed and will share this with Dumbledore."

Severus frowned at this new information. It was disturbing to say the least. After a pause in which Severus pondered it (and her trust in him), he nodded in agreement, "Indeed I shall. A seer's sense cannot be taken lightly."

Though it was preferable that Daphne take repose, Severus could not leave without the long awaited chat about the artifact so snugly tucked in his pocket. He waited till she finished her French wine, then gracefully withdrew it and held it in front of her. It would have been invisible had someone simply picked his pocket (if in fact anyone could pick Severus Snape's pocket), but because he voluntarily chose to observe it with her, the artifact revealed itself. When she looked up and saw it, her eyes stilled on its twinkling crystal form for an instant before glazing and becoming immobile. Severus's brows nit together as he realized that he could not have roused her if he'd wanted to: she was entirely fixed in an unconscious pose.

After a moment she groaned as her chin fell to her chest, and she was blissfully asleep.

Severus was not thrilled. He impatiently flicked his wand at her. "Renervate," he said.

She shook her head and looked up once more.

Severus raised a brow, "Well, Miss Martin?"

She swallowed and answered. "I see things." She hunched and hugged herself defensively with a sour look upon her face. "I see things I don't want to see."

"What things?" he drawled.

"Things I presume are yet to come. Voldemort wants that crystal doesn't he?"

Severus's temper flared. He forced his voice to be neutral when he spoke. "Miss Martin. Though Albus Dumbledore may feel confident enough to pronounce that name aloud, it is not for the inexperienced. Do not repeat it again."

She looked down in quiet acquiescence.

Severus looked at her with unsurety. "What is it exactly that you know of the crystal?"

"Everything and nothing. I know some of its varied past…I know that you crave it, which is why I chose to give it to you."

Severus studied her for insincerety and found none (he simply could not give up the spy even among those he respected). After a pause he continued to question her. "How did you come by it?"

She gave the most unsuspected answer possible. "Mundungus. He came round one afternoon seeking Sirius's advice about the value of some of his stolen items. I happened to walk in on their little chat just when he'd come to bringing it out. All I had to do was lay eyes on it…I wanted it immediately. Before Sirius could say anything I told him it was worthless. Sirius caught on and backed me up. He convinced Dung that it was only a faux charm to deceive the fearful. He threw it in the rubbish bin right in front of him and ushered him out. I fished it out."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "You expect me to believe that an individual with little or no experience in the magical world knew the value of such an item at first glance?"

Daphne looked at him sharply. "I expect you to believe nothing. But if you really want to know the truth, I would advise you to believe that I sensed its value."

Severus glared at her sharp tongue: he felt like chastising her but refrained. Instead he continued his questions. "What is it that you see of its past?"

She took a moment to answer. "I see its origins: a tribal people making fire and magic. I see it passing hands over the centuries…some more eager than others. I see bloodshed in its name. I see its last showing in Wizarding society, which is perhaps its most eventful. A woman tried to hide it from a very powerful man. I don't really see him… more sense him. I can hear his carrying voice talking to many followers like an orator. He had a very dynamic voice and many were mesmerized by him. But she wasn't fooled. There was a significance which I can't quite grasp. He knew of this crystal and wanted it…for a power unbreakable…but she was smart. She figured a way to hide it from him forever. She made him believe it had been destroyed, but not before many died in an attempt to steal it away. She succeeded in hiding it for twenty years. But the copper miners disturbed its repose thirty years or so ago. For the last two decades it's been passed around by muggle sight seers…until Mundungus finally got it from a muggle child. Being a wizard, he only sensed that it was magical, and wanted a price."

Severus's brows had raised indeed during this discussion. She had just revealed to him an important part of the story he sought to uncover. Repressing the urge to put the rest of the pieces together by asking her about Thomas Glennway, he tried to stay general. "You saw all this the instant you saw the artifact? How?"

"I saw the last bit just now," she looked at him shrewdly, finally understanding his interest in it. "No. When I first saw it, I only saw your vague interest in it and assumed you knew of it through your many nights of study."

He was entirely annoyed: firstly that she could see his study habits, and secondly that he could not keep some part of this secret from her. He frowned at her. "How much do you know Miss Martin of my business with this crystal?"

She could not repress the slight smile which touched her lips as a blush blossomed on her cheeks.

The kitchen had emptied out of Weasleys; all of them leaving Sirius to himself after hearing what had happened. They did not approve of course of what he had done, but they also knew that he was beside himself with regret and worry and chose to tactfully step away. Harry had taken a seat across the table from him: offering his support with his quiet presence. Sirius remained silent as well: looking entirely disgusted with himself.

When the front door open and closed, after over an hour of wait, Sirius's head shot up. He stood abruptly and waited. He heard Daphne's dainty steps coming towards the kitchen and didn't know whether he was more relieved or worried. She entered and looked round to him.

"Daphne." His voice, filled with anxious apology, faltered.

She gave a sentimental smile with big concerned brown eyes and he couldn't stand it. He dashed to her and enfolded her in a crushing hug. She felt the beginnings of silent tears bubble up in her friend and rubbed soothing circles in his shoulders. Shaking her head softly she said, "You make too much of it."

Harry cleared his throat and stood. Sirius also cleared his throat and moved away from her with dry eyes which she knew where false.

"Come on… let's make dinner. I would rather throw up than eat anything Kreacher would make." She whispered with a wry smile.

Harry took her words literally and heartily agreed, but Sirius mirthlessly chuckled at her use of the statement he used when he had tried to cheer her up. "I'll go get everyone," he said.

Daphne knew it was an excuse to walk away but she let it pass and began helping a bashful Harry retrieve Molly's favorite food stuffs: she would of course take over if the word 'Dinner' was spoken.

Dinner was excruciatingly forced for some, and obliviously enjoyed by others. The twins were making jokes and pushing the party, while Sirius falsely laughed the loudest of them all. She knew he was putting on so that all could have a somewhat happy last dinner there before they all left next morning. To her, he was being ridiculously formal and polite. He'd come to the conclusion that he no longer had a right to be close with her after the incident with Snape. She sighed. In all this confusion, she could also sense Harry's anxiousness to speak to Sirius: he, like her, was worried that the ticking time-bomb in Sirius was fit to burst, and soon. All she could do was wait…at the moment.

After dinner dispersed and routes were being made chaotically to peoples bedchambers, Daphne daringly made her way to Sirius's. If anyone saw her, it would only fuel the already out of control rumours, but she simply had to help her friend. Just as the door to his room was closing, she stuck her foot in the jam.

"Daphne…" he whined. "I'm rather tired."

"I bet you are. From forcing yourself to stand on ceremony all day by calling me by my full name."

Sirius blanched at the mere suggestion of himself standing on ceremony. "I thought you despised the total butchery of such a 'traditional name.'"

Daphne smiled at her swiftly approaching success: his weak jesting with Molly's words was an obvious sign that her banter was working somewhat. "Well I did hate it when you turned 'Daph' into 'Daft.' That was too childish, even for you Sirius."

His lip twitched. "I meant it as a compliment!"

She suddenly thought of something…"And you had to listen to a lot of absolute rubbish from a certain…(it almost nauseated her to say it, but it was for Sirius's sake. He desperately needed some lightening up)…Greasy Git."

His eyes widened in shock and a definite grin crawled its way across his face. He couldn't believe his ears. That's the first time he had ever heard her tease Snape, and it made him all warm and fuzzy inside. "Well. Circe may I remember that all my life?" He asked the Goddess as he closed his eyes.

Daphne swatted him on the shoulder. "So have I earned entry?" she asked regally.

He instantly slapped his boots together and stepped aside as he flourished his hand in a humble gesture to enter.

She laughed and did so as he closed the door behind her.

By the wee hours of the morning Sirius's bed looked like the rubbish can outside Honeyduke's doorstep. There where candy wrappers of all colors, shapes and sizes scattered about it: some as big as Sirius himself. They had spent the last few hours going round and round about the events of the day while making short work of Sirius's store of comfort food. Daphne had had to convince and re-convince Sirius that he Did. Not. Hurt. Her. It had finally taken a complete examination of her arm and assertion that there was no lasting damage (Daphne thanking the gods that the glamour hadn't worn off).

"It's just that…"

"Sirius," she said in a warning tone.

"It's just that, what if it had been worse Daph! What if my spontaneous magic had done worse than pull your muscle: which is bad enough! I wanted to kill Snape." He looked away in quiet shame.

"Sirius, you didn't want to kill me. You wanted to get me out of the way. Your magic was just a little forceful about it."

"That doesn't justify anything. I don't know why you're being so nice to me. I don't know how you can ever trust me again…I don't know how I'm ever going to deserve your trust again…"

"Will you shut it! I don't want to hear another word about it… I would trust you with my life," she finished earnestly.

He looked at her with quiet gratitude and affection…before a grin spread on his face once more and he started teasing her on using his favorite nickname for Snape. She rolled her eyes and bit into a cockroach cluster, which she immediately spit back out in horror.

It was an hour till day break and Sirius was fast asleep, sprawled across his bed on top of all their wrappers. Though Azkaban had put irreversible lines on his face and a gauntness in his cheeks, Daphne saw only a happy and contented little boy peacefully breathing softly as his dreams played out, now unmarred by the guilt she had lifted. She smiled in happiness herself. Her life had changed so since her homeless days, and no matter what happened in the years to come she would always be thankful for her present place in this playful man's home. She would always be grateful for the platonic love they shared as well as her love for so many others in her life. She breathed in a breath of almost agonized contentment herself as she snuck from his room to the kitchen. She would prepare for Remus's and Tonks's arrival that morning as she listened to Molly's wireless.

She smiled when she heard the front door open and the hushed tones of her favorite pending couple bustle down the hall. She placed their porridge on the kitchen table as well as generous servings of toast and marmalade. Her face fell however when she saw Remus's frown and Tonk's puffy eyes.

"Hello Daphne," said Remus politely.

"Remus," she replied while unable to take her eyes off Tonks who came directly at her and hugged her tightly.

"Daphne," Tonks sighed in affection and dependency. At that moment Daphne was a pillar to a slouching Tonks.

Daphne patted her outgoing friend on the shoulder and ushered her into a chair. "Here you are Tonks. Please eat," she said pushing the porridge towards her.

Tonks sighed out a false laugh and sniffed before beginning to eat.

Remus likewise sat and began to shovel spoon-fulls into his mouth without even tasting the creaminess of it or, Daphne doubted, even knowing what he was eating.

She frowned herself as she turned to set the kettle to flame: she didn't want to snoop into a lover's quarrel even if she did want to help.

By the time they were done eating and began whispering to each other, the house had risen and Daphne was again serving plates.

Somewhere along the way both of them sealed their lips and sat up straighter as the rest of the family sat round the table and noisily ate their last meal there before the start of term.

Sirius was definitely more sincerely happy, even if he couldn't be all happy due to Harry's departure. He kept his head down with a little sad smile on his face: occasionally speaking to Molly or Arthur as it was their last day here and he wanted to be a good host.

When breakfast was over, they were all up and rushing. Daphne kept watching the look of utter panic on Harry's face. He wanted to speak to Sirius badly and she knew he would not get his chance. Sirius at last took him aside, but only to slip a small brown package into his hand before pushing him towards the door. Without even meaning to, she heard his words in her head: "A way of letting me know if Snape's giving you a hard time…"

She smirked. She could have expected that: Sirius would never neglect the boy he considered his son.

Harry on the other hand looked like a lost and worried child trying to somehow grasp Sirius's attention before he was shoved out the door and into the January chill.

She pitied him dearly. As they were all exchanging hugs, she snuck closer and steeled herself: she was about to do something quite unpleasant, but her heart required it. She walked up and hugged Harry. He returned the hug with a light smile, not knowing the repulsion she was going through. When she pulled away she looked into his trusting and innocent eyes. Smiling she said, "Don't worry Harry. I'll keep a good strong eye on him." She patted his cheek as would a loving mother.

He looked at her with astonishment and an unreasonable amount of gratitude. 'Thank you' he mouthed to her as he was shoved by the crowd into the January chill.

She then went to Tonks who also looked quite lost. She hugged her and whispered in her ear, "You just tell me if it gets too bad. I'll not have a mangy werewolf breaking your heart."

"Nah. You just take care of the flea bitten dog…ha…" she pulled away, wiped her eyes and waved as she turned and left.

Sirius came up behind Daphne, slung an arm around her shoulder and watched their dear friends go. She looked at him with worry and closed the door before confessing who she was worried about. It turns out Sirius didn't even have enough perception, let alone seer's blood, to perceive that one of the Marauders was having a hard time in matters of the love.

A/N: Hope it was a worthy presentation of the chapter "Occlumency" in the book. Thanks for reading…


	12. A Plucked Orchid

A/N: This Chapter is dedicated to my latest reader, AlicetoAshes. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 12 - A Plucked Orchid

The late winter air was cold on his cheeks. As he made his way down the London street in the wee hours of the morning, with long but slow strides and seeing no other soul but himself, he wondered if he would ever be so lucky again. He wondered if he would ever see that sweet face again. When he saw it last, it was older, drawn up quite thin; almost unhealthily so, and as lost as ever. He wanted to help her. He wanted to reach out and make things right. He wanted her illness cured and he wanted himself to be the cause of that cure. He didn't know if he ought to simply leave well enough alone, but he must try…he must try to find his baby girl.

He hugged his old tailor made wool coat close and pulled up the collar so that he looked like a modern version of Sherlock Holms; simply missing the pipe. He continued his walk fully expecting it to be fruitless, for he had traversed this street a hundred times over in hopes that she would return.

From the side of his eye he suddenly caught movement in the dark alleyway adjoining an old cloths shop that was apparently closed for repair. He pulled his coat closer around him and continued on, fearing it was a burglar. His fears were heightened when the dark figure stepped out of the alleyway and slowly began to follow him. 'Damn,' he thought. He continued walking his slow pace, bracing himself for attack. He was no push over…he would fight if he had to. At the corner he suddenly whirled round and came face to face with a man dressed in the blackest coat he'd ever seen. The man had a strong chin, jet black hair and eyes, with a long pointed nose. His coat reached to just above his ankles where black skinned boots, which looked quite expensive, emerged from likewise black slacks. He simply stared at his prey looking somewhat amused.

"Can I help you Sir?"

"Perhaps," drawled the man in a thick eastern European accent, "it is I who can help you."

"What do you want?"

"You are looking for a girl. Roughly close to twenty-five years in age, and quite pretty. Are you not?"

The former looked to the dark man suspiciously. "How would you know?"

"It is my business to know, Mr. Martin…If you wish to find this girl you must look in the streets across town. I have not verified which to be precise, but perhaps Churchill street, or Grimmauld Place; even Lansburry drive. She lives there-abouts I believe."

The suspicion only deepened on Mr. Martin's face. "You've seen her there?"

"Many times Sir. She has a talent for evading those she wishes to hide from however. But generally, she enjoys morning walks before the seventh hour."

"Have you been spying on her?"

The man gave a throaty laugh, "Why Mr. Martin…one has only to open his eyes to see the obvious." With that, he swiftly turned and walked away, back down the street and again turned down the alley from which he came.

Mr. Martin looked at his watch and found that it was five thirty o'clock. If what this man said was true, he might well catch her this morning. He again lifted the collar to his wool coat and made a determined beeline for Churchill street.

It had been a week since Harry and the rest of them had left for Hogwarts and Sirius was somewhat melancholy, but taking it decidedly better than Daphne thought possible. After their reconciliation, he didn't seem to want to mess things up. The week had passed peacefully, but she could still sense his desire to explode out of the house and take action outside house walls. He held his peace however, and resolutely kept her company placidly.

It was Saturday and a perfect morning for a walk. Sirius hadn't risen yet and she felt an overwhelming desire to walk barefoot in the park. She took Sirius's old silver watch as she had done before, slipped on a coat over her nightshirt and stepped out into the late winter air.

She walked down Grimmauld Place, turned on Dawson lane and headed for Churchill street: where the park lay just a few lots north. When she got there, she slipped off her shoes and walked onto the grass towards her favourite tree. She thought about Severus and how he had intercepted her first jaunt out on a morning such as this one. She smiled and almost wished he would do it again. But no; he was far too busy these days, what with the war plans, studying the crystal, investigating her talents and teaching at Hogwarts. She sat bellow the unnecessary umbrella of oak leaves and thought on the crystal. She had been able to tell Severus much about it. They had sat in the library and worked until she could more clearly see the story behind it. She hoped it helped him…he was on such an important mission and he so passionately needed to succeed. She thought on his continual meetings with the Dark Lord and cringed. If he fell, their side would lose much of its power, and she could hardly stand the thought of Severus's death.

As she contemplated these frightening possibilities, she saw a man walking towards her. He wore a grey wool coat with peculiar looking buttons…the buttons hand selected off a shore of the Thames River.

She gasped and shot up off the ground, completely stunned silent as he approached.

When he finally stood facing her, he had an awed expression as if he could not believe what he was seeing. Several moments elapsed with not a sound from each of them. Then…very slowly…he reached out a glove covered hand and stroked her cheek with the most compassionate look she had ever seen him wear. "Daphne…"

She looked very uneasy, as if she was looking for the right opportunity to bolt. Her pained eyes kept slowly searching the panorama to her right; the direction of Sirius. She just wanted to run to Sirius…or Severus; although she new the latter was way too far away to be able to help her. Her eyes snapped back to her father's face as she beheld him with a frown of utter fear. She didn't feel safe with him…she just wanted to run.

"Daphne my sweet, sweet little girl…" He reached out further and embraced her.

Her head was swimming. Half of her simply wanted to weep on his shoulder as she used to when she was a little girl, while the other half felt it deep down in her soul that she wasn't safe with him. Her mind was screaming for release. Hide! She had to hide!

She ripped away from him suddenly, breathing somewhat faster and willing herself not to hyperventilate, before she moved to walk away. Her mistrusting eyes swirled wildly in her head as she wondered why she didn't hear his footsteps following her. She needn't have waited long. After only several paces, she suddenly heard his footsteps thundering towards her. She whipped around just in time to see his grey wool covered chest coming at her.

"Naaaahhhhh!"

Severus was hard at work on his dungeon desk. In all these weeks of study and hard work and bewilderment; he finally felt close to understanding the whole truth. He hated to admit that that was due to someone else's assistance, but he had to grudgingly admit that Daphne had enlightened him to many sordid details he could not have possibly been aware of. At the moment he was writing out parchments of notes: outlining the whole of what he knew thus far so that he could present it to Dumbledore within the day. He was as a boy: excited at the notion of accomplishment…he could not stop until he had it all worked out.

So it was maddeningly exasperating to find a blazing phoenix feather insolently dropped upon his desk and the parchment he was currently filling in a small and graceful hand. He picked it up and glared at it, as if it had personally offended him. Thrusting it aside, and mumbling, he made his way to the headmaster's office, nine impossible floors above him.

Rolling his eyes at the ridiculous password, Severus walked up the staircase leading to the office and unceremoniously entered. There was no-one present. He looked about absently, noticed a parchment on the desk in Dumbledore's hand and thought nothing of reading it.

Dear Severus,

Because it is in your nature, as a Slytherin, I doubt not that you will lay eyes upon this parchment forthwith. (Severus scowled). You are needed immediately at Order Headquarters, my boy. Feel free to use my fireplace to hasten your arrival. Destroy this parchment upon your departure.

AD

All thoughts of frustration forgotten immediately, Severus grabbed the parchment and burned it; before throwing in floo powder, shouting 'Number Twelve Grimmauld Place,' and tossing himself in the luminescent green flames.

When he materialized in Sirius's kitchen, he was greeted with the sight of a sobbing Molly, Arthur clutching to her supportively, Sirius pacing a hole in the hardwood floor, and the rest of their close circle of friends looking about worriedly. Dumbledore was standing close to Sirius, solemn and silent. Lupin was sitting in a chair rubbing his chin while Tonks sat by him with red-rimmed eyes and runny-nose.

Severus looked about sharply knowing that something imperative was desperately missing in this despondent picture. Within seconds he realized what it was…Where was Daphne? He marched up to Dumbledore somewhat scary looking. "Where is Miss Martin?" Though not showing it in his face, his heart was pounding as he waited for an answer.

Dumbledore, with brows nit together and sad eyes, replied, "Miss Martin has disappeared Severus. All that is missing are her shoes, her coat, and Sirius's old family encrusted silver pocket watch: which she often takes with her upon early morning walks…"

"But she's never stayed out this long! She's always back before eight because she's afraid of depressing me! Something must have happened…" Sirius was about to through a tantrum. "If she doesn't show up soon," warned Sirius with a rigid finger, "I will go out looking for her! And you just try and stop me!"

"As touching as this display is Black," Severus feigned sarcasm, "we must put our brains together if we wish to discover where she is in a timely fashion."

With a face as crimson as dragon's blood in desperation, Sirius looked as if he would attack Snape.

"Now. If indeed the Dark Lord has somehow heard of Miss Martin's stay here, and the reasoning behind that, he will have her in the strong hold. I must despatch to his side immediately with some sort of useless information so that I might determine if she is there."

"That is a wise decision Severus. Go now. We will await your return."

With a loud pop Severus was gone, and they were all left to wait idly by for news of an irreplaceable and necessary fixture at Grimmauld Place.

Severus landed gracefully at the strong hold's steps and entered swiftly. His robes billowed grandly behind him. When he reached the vaulted room which Voldemort kept his throne like chair housed in, he knocked sharply and waited for a reply.

"Enter," the cold voice spoke.

Snape did, and unflinching, to face the obviously angered man within. "My Lord." He snapped his heels together and bowed.

Voldemort looked to him somewhat annoyed. "Severus you have just interrupted Rudolphus with what he was about to inform me of."

"I beg pardon, My Lord."

"Indeed you shall. What is so important Rudolphus?"

Rudolphus gave Severus a slight scowl. Lestrange was a pureblood, and quite indignant that an ugly half-blood like Severus held a position above a Lestrange or a Malfoy. He turned back to the Dark Lord without so much as acknowledging Snape. "I bring diverting tidings My Lord. My wife and Lady, Sir, brings always news of this Daphne Manners, or Mentos, or some such name…Sirius Black's wench My Lord. It is rumored all round that this witch has gone so far as to establish residence under Black's roof, without so much as embarrassment towards the shame."

"What life is there in that for me? Idle woman's gossip!"

"For a fortnight I have been spying on this witch, Sir."

"Is she pretty?"

"As delightful as an orchid Sir."

"And? What of this?"

"It is said that my cousin would do anything for this orchid…including come out of his impenetrable prison Sir."

"Ah…" Voldemort said with interest. "What more?"

"Through my spying I came to realize, Sir, that she is wanted by the mudblood authorities. The stupid blighters didn't realize she was a witch, rather they believed her to be mad. Her father has been in search of her for an age. This morning I made it possible for him to reach her. I imagine that by now…she is in one of the mudblood institutions… what are they called? Asylums?"

Voldemort roared with laughter. "Oh very good Lestrange! You have indeed diverted me. Black will be running out of hiding in a fit of desperation." After another hearty laugh, he pointed a stiff finger. "You are in charge to see that if he does come riding out on a white steed of knightly courage, he is promptly knocked off. Is that clear Lestrange?"

"Yes Sir." Rudolphus smirked and sauntered off looking very smug.

During this exchange Snape had remained stoic faced and emotionless. When the Dark lord finally turned to him, now not at all angered for the 'diversion,' Snape was ready to put forth his excuse for coming.

"Sir." He bowed again.

Smiling his master gestured for him to straighten. "Well Severus Snape? What do you think of that? Ha!"

"My Lord, I am highly pleased that my long time enemy finds himself in such a situation."

He laughed again on Snape's behalf, then straightened. "Yes but you came to tell me something important?"

"I believe so. I have read in the Prophet that Bode has been murdered with devil's-snare after a condition which ailed him after a little trip to the Department of Mysteries."

"Yes?"

"It is not my place to concern myself with the missions of others My Lord…but if what I suspect was the cause for Bode's condition is so, then I believe you will lose many other useful Death Eaters in this endeavour."

"Speak plainly Snape!"

"Bode fell because it was impossible for him to retrieve it Sir. Even under Lucius's Imperius Curse it was impossible."

"Meaning?"

"What you seek can only be retrieved by yourself or…the boy."

A look of comprehension dawned on Voldemort's face. "Because it concerns only us?"

"Precisely."

There was a pause. "Thank you Snape. You will be rewarded for this…before you go, send Avery in."

Severus mentally grimaced on Avery's behalf, but only nodded, bowed and left. On the way out he informed Avery he was wanted in the Dark Lord's chambers and…finally…departed to Daphne's rescue.

A/N: A little shorter than my usual chapters J but I hope impacting…Thanks for reading.


	13. Executing the Plan

Chapter 13 - Executing the Plan

Severus flew into Grimmauld Place, not bothering to knock. As soon as he reached the kitchen everyone jumped up from their sitting places. They starred in astonishment at Snape: he looked as if he was about to enter into battle. In seconds he was at Dumbledore's side.

"Rodulphus revealed her to her father. She is threatened with the muggle asylum. If we are to retrieve her as she was we must act now."

"Wait! The muggle what?"

"THE INSANE ASYLUM BLACK!" Severus turned to Sirius with a hideous look, "Muggle potions; more commonly known as 'medication', can completely impede the magic in her veins effective immediately! Or, the worse of the two evils - warp her perception of visions to such a degree that will permanently effect her grasp of reality. She will become a shadow of what she was. Do you understand?"

"Is that all you care about Snape? The use of her bloody magic as it suits you!" Sirius shouted.

Snape rounded on him with a mad glint in his eye, but before he could hex him into next week, Dumbledore stepped forward.

"Sirius. You go too far." There was a tone in Dumbledore's voice which commanded calm, and silence reigned for a moment among them. "Severus, where exactly is she?"

Severus looked murderous but turned to Dumbledore; this was after all not the moment for ill-timed vengeance. "I do not know exactly where her father would have thought to take her, but I have a fair idea of which is the most illustrious mental clinic in the London area. It is called the 'Lambeth Asylum.'"

"Alright, we must find a way to infiltrate it and steal her away before any real damage is done. Severus go. Verify if Lambeth is indeed where she is presently. If not, attempt to locate her father. Send us your protonous when you've found her."

"But that still doesn't solve the problem of 'infiltrating' it…" Sirius demanded. He was standing rigidly with his wand clasped tightly in hand. He had that manic look to him that he only ever got when he was about to do something dangerous.

Lupin knew him all too well. "Sirius we can't just burst through the front doors and take her. As much as I would like to do that for Daphne, we cannot afford to be caught by ministry officials from the Accidental Magic Reversal Department. We are the members composing the inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix: if we get caught, there is no Order. We must think rationally and coolly," he warned.

"While you're thinking 'rationally and coolly' Remus, my darling Daphs' being probed and tortured like some bloody animal on display!"

Remus looked to his friend in sad severity before quietly answering, "You've had a lot of darling girls mate. We need to think of the cause."

Sirius's jaw snapped tight as all the blood drained from his face in blind furry. He unconsciously moved towards his friend. "HOW DARE YOU IMPLY THAT SHE'S…"

Dumbledore's surprisingly strong hand was on Sirius's chest, effectively restraining his threatening advance. "Sirius. We must work together if we are to rescue your dear 'friend.'" Dumbledore stressed the word to show Sirius that they would all respect Daphne. "No one is implying that Miss Martin is anything but a lady, and a lady too who is valued among us."

Sirius was still starring at Remus with glinting eyes. After a moment however he leaned off of Dumbledore's hand, straitened his expensive coat and smoothed his hair. "I'll thank you to shut your stupid mouth Moony." He turned to the room at large. "And I want you all to know right now, if I find that anyone is making lewd comments about her, you WILL have me to duel with. Order be damned!"

Everyone present, except Dumbledore and Snape, looked down in shame. Even Minerva had indulged in tight lipped disapproval of the girl.

Snape spoke. "Yes well… as interesting as your love life, or lack thereof, is Black; I believe Miss Martin's position at present is of more importance."

"Well Snape! Since your mind is ever present, then explain to me how you fancy getting Daphne free." Sirius was still smoking slightly from the confrontation with his best friend.

Severus only smirked, "I have a plan."

She opened her eyes. The thing which immediately made her shut them again was WHITE. The color dominated the panorama. She opened them again slowly and fleetingly, blinking as she did so: it was almost blinding. At first it took her a moment to remember what had happened…but when she did, she let out a fractured cry at the realization of where she was.

Her father had overpowered her, pleading with her the entire time to 'calm down Sweety.' He claimed he was going to help her as she thrashed about and bucked against him. She had turned into a wild cat fighting for her life. She used nails, elbows, fists, teeth: anything to get him off her so she could run…but she would not use the dear muggle fishing knife against its owner. She left that un-touched in her coat pocket.

The fishing knife! She tried to reach into her pocket to check its presence and found, to her growing horror, that her arms were restrained. She looked down, and her jaw dropped in physical pain when she saw the buckles and straps of a white straight jacket. Her breaths started coming in horrible painful shallow gasps. NO! Tears started pouring down her face as she began scuttling her body towards the white door with what looked like a doggy door in the centre of the top half of it. She stood against it on shaky legs. "Severus!" She shouted his name like a life line. "I'm trapped!" Her yells were intermingled with sobs and whimpers. "Somebody… Please! Please don't leave me!" She broke down.

As she lay there for a time, she began thinking of Sirius. He must have said those words and felt that pain when they had first locked him up in Azkaban for the unjust murders of his friends. He not only had to grieve his own demise, but theirs as well. Indignant tears poured down her cheeks for his undeserved misery. Poor Sirius. Oh, she had to GET OUT OF HERE! She began throwing her head back against the floor, but found it cushioned by soft padding. This only made her scream louder. "Noooooooo!"

Eventually the door opened and two men dressed in identical white plain suits came in carrying glass bottles and a needle. She screamed and tried to lunge herself away from them, but they caught her easily as she was impeded by the straight jacket.

"NO!"

One unbuckled her jacket and held her steady as the other jammed the needle into the silver top of a glass bottle then withdrew it, dripping, to administer to her. All she felt was the stinging pain in her arm as she flung her head back, and knew no more.

"How is she, Doctor?"

"Well, she's spent way too much time uncared for. It's taken a great toll on her already waning sanity. As my old patient I should know. She is more stubborn and set in her way than she was then, and she's lost years of psychiatric aid," said the now promoted Doctor Chelsic.

"I want her to have a rounded treatment Doctor Chelsic. I want her not to be afraid this time."

"She needs to be willing Mr. Martin. She has to want not to be afraid. I can assure you she will receive the best possible care for someone with her mental problem. Visiting hours are ten to three Wednesdays through Sundays. Good day Mr. Martin." With that he turned and left the worried father standing in the waiting area looking entirely lost.

The unfamiliar, yet distinguished, doctor came gliding down the hall as if he truly owned the hospital. His long white frock coat and name tag were merely status trifles compared with his commanding nature and stateliness, which were fairly dripping off his person as he walked. When he entered the waiting room outside Doctor Chelsic's office all the nurses almost gasped in response to the authority he permeated.

"May I help you Doctor?" asked a somewhat nervous young assistant.

He looked at her sharply before answering. "Yes. I am Doctor Horus. I am here to consult with a Doctor Chelsic…you will have gotten a letter expressing today's appointment."

"Yes…wait one moment."

She looked through her records and verified. "Yes, come with me please."

He followed her to the good Doctor's office.

"Dr. Chelsic? A Dr. Horus to see you."

"Yes Nelly, thank you."

Dr. Horus took a sweeping glance of Chelsic and imperially seated himself without first awaiting invitation or shaking hands.

Dr. Chelsic seemed a bit muffed but said nothing of it.

"Doctor. As you know, I am here to discuss one patient in particular."

"Yes," Chelsic sniffed. "Daphne Anne Martin. She was my patient even before I was employed here, at this good institution. I was in family counciling then."

Horus looked as if in waiting.

Chelsic licked his lips before continuing. "I diagnosed her with paranoid schizophrenia."

"What were her symptoms Doctor?"

Chelsic looked even more threatened, if possible. "She had all the required symptoms for such a diagnosis Doctor Horus, I assure you. She was my patient," he huffed, "I should know."

"Regardless, she stopped being your patient for a great number of years on account of her apparent flight. Do you know that there was a Missing Persons report and investigation concerning this young woman the entirety of those years? Scotland Yard feels, understandably so, that things were mishandled in her treatment then."

"Am I under investigation!" Chelsic demanded.

"Should you be?" returned Horus, leaning forward for emphasis. "What we at the Yard wish, Dr. Chelsic, is to evaluate a woman we have been examining on paper for eleven years. Because her disappearance and state were all part of our case files, we would like to close those files thoroughly. I am a fully credentialed criminal psychologist, with eighteen years of intense experience with the worst kinds of mentally ill subjects," the haughty psychologist gave Chelsic another sweeping glance. (Chelsic, whom had studied at half time for ten years, then gotten a cheesy little office and worked as a self-practitioner for seven before landing a city job here, was to say the least a little uncomfortable). "It is my job to properly and objectively evaluate her. So I ask again, 'what were her symptoms Doctor?'"

Chelsic looked as if he had had to swallow a particularly ill tasting pill before he spoke. "She displayed a severely poor attention span and memory loss. She had a mild speech impairment: stuttered at times. She was in a state of constant depression and showed low levels of paranoia. She believed her father had ceased to care about her. She also believed that my only goal was to institutionalize her. We found that she had secretly stopped taking her prescription pills after three weeks. She had ceased speaking altogether unless especially pressed. It was very hard for me to extricate any sort of answers from her, but from what little I could decipher, she had hallucinatory visions as well. She saw things like dogs changing colour, or people dressed in odd clothing. She even saw people walking through walls. And of course the most prominent calling card: she heard voices."

"Does her family have a history of mental illness?"

"No."

"Was her mother afflicted with viral infection during pregnancy: maternal influenza perhaps?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Was she limiting her diet in an attempt to remain slim during pregnancy, as a result starving the fetus?"

"I should hope not."

"Were there problems during labor thus inducing a lack of oxygen to the baby?"

"I have no records of my patient's pre-birth life."

Doctor Horus gave Chelsic a glare of exasperation that would make anyone melt into their seat. "Did the patient at any time have any sort of condition that required a blood-type compatible operation to take place?"

Chelsic looked extremely put out as he again gave an unsure answer.

Horus's glare just became more intense. "Did you order any form of diagnostic tests for brain functions to verify if she had any sort of neurological abnormalities that would account for Schizophrenia?"

How was poor Chelsic to explain to this obviously superior psychologist that he had not had the financial support to establish that sort of testing ability in his two room office all those years ago? He settled for looking sternly upset.

"So... you mean to tell me that you diagnosed and treated a patient - a child - for something as serious as paranoid schizophrenia without being entirely and completely SURE that she did not suffer from something less detrimental. Are you seriously trying to relate, that in all your infinite stupidity, you could have forced prescriptions of that nature on someone who could have only had something as manageable as bi-polar disorder or autism? you stupid nincompoop!"

"Believe me! There was nothing autistic about her!"

"I think not," Horus coolly replied. "I shall investigate this matter thoroughly myself and ensure that this patient receives proper care. I require her files Dr. Chelsic."

Doctor Chelsic fidgeted about in his seat. He did not want to hand over his work or his patient to this self-important pompous Doctor who was threatening him and regrettably higher in rank. But, it was the law. He painfully bit down any objection he so dearly wanted to voice and complied. "Very well." He turned in his swivel chair and began shifting through his filer. He slowly extricated the file and handed it over.

Dr. Horus grasped the miniscule thing and paused. His brow shot up as he looked again to Doctor Chelsic. "And this, is all of her information?"

"Yes," Chelsic tightly answered with hate in his eyes.

"Ah." He gracefully rose as if wordlessly closing the matter. "Now Doctor Chelsic. I must have a private audience with the famous Miss Martin." Turning he started toward the door.

Dr. Chelsic's mouth became a very thin line as he hurried to follow.


	14. Establishing Consiquences

A/N: Hello everyone 8) It's been quite a while hasn't it? Well here we are…chapter 14…I will attempt to update every week as now I FINALLY have some badly needed time off. Happy reading!

Chapter 14 - Establishing Consequences

The drug induced haze was asphyxiating. She couldn't breath. She felt a throbbing in her mind rather than her head, and the few seconds that she could open her eyes she saw wondrous things which others could not see. But in a moment it all turned dark as death. She felt breath fail her again and a desperate scream was ripped from her lungs before she collapsed. She saw Sirius in chains screaming for her to help him. She saw Harry's dead body sprawled at the orator's feet. She saw Severus writhing in pain as his wand lay feet away; out of his reach. "Naaaaooooo!"

Suddenly the door was unbolted, and she tumbled backward in a fright. Her perception of her surroundings was muffled and swimming with confusing hues, but she could sense someone. The male's presence came at her… she screamed, expecting another needle jammed up her arm, but it didn't come. She looked up with hooded eyes trying to decipher what this new presence was…perhaps it was not truly there. But it must be there…it's hand firmly held her face up. Her brows knit together when she realized something about the presence was familiar. She tried to open her eyes wider but they simply would not stay open. She reached a hand to the man's face tentatively and touched the warm pale skin there. Flashes of raven hair and black eyes formed before her. She liked this man…she could not explain why, but she found his warmth comforting and safe. She moved her lips in indistinguishable ways trying to pronounce unknown words of gratitude. She feared only muffled gargles sprung from her throat.

Without ceremony the man lifted her to her wobbly feet and began hissing instructions which she could not decipher. In a moment she felt his strong embrace and then the world went spinning around her in a swirl of darkness which was somewhat nauseating. She knew no more.

)-

Severus was quivering with rage when he laid eyes upon his friend. She was delirious with drugs and incoherent with confusion. She lunged back, falling over her own feet in inability to master her faculties. She was afraid of him. He could have killed her father for causing such insecurity in her and fostering this automatic fear between them. He hated to see such a reaction from her in response to his approach. Whimpering and screaming at his touch, she weakly fought for freedom. He gently caught her up by the shoulders and stood her upon her own two feet. She seemed to relax somewhat when she realized he was not going to force her about. He raised her face to peer into her hooded eyes and found the signs of what he feared most: heavy doses of medication. The beautiful brown orbs were watery and bloodshot. Suddenly he was startled by soft fingers touching his own face. He looked down and found bruised skin and agitated enlarged veins upon her hands. He growled in anger and hissed useless reassurances to his friend before taking her limp form in a firm hold and turning on the spot with her; leaving behind only an empty folder cover entitled _Miss Daphne Anne Martin_.

)-

Daphne clenched her teeth in frustration. It had been three weeks since her rescue and still nothing. She had only received a small dose of those terrible drugs, but the effects were still daunting. Her visions had dropped to an all-time low in the three weeks since Severus had rescued her from Lambeth Asylum: in other words... she had no more visions. Sirius had done nothing but tell her over and over again that "It's alright. The visions will eventually come back after a badly needed break from mass-producing them for Snape. About bloody time if you ask me." This did nothing to calm her. She had been reduced to the life of a common person with no advantage while living with powerful wizards. Could she be blamed for feeling... inadequate... exposed... a little useless? She knew that that point of view was exactly what was so wrong about the pure-blood stance, but she couldn't help it. She was entirely useless now, to Severus, to Sirius, to everyone she knew and loved. She hated it. Severus had not been round to see her since the day of the rescue, when she'd woken sweat-drenched and trembling in her bed at Grimmauld Place. Molly had been there thankfully and had stopped her from harming herself. She had only been trying to slap away the beautiful but decidedly unreal hallucination of Sirius's house, but had also cut herself pretty badly while shattering her vanity. There was a blood-curdling scream, and before she knew it the whole house had rushed to her room to see Molly restraining her. To her dismay, they all thought she was trying to kill herself, and simply would not believe otherwise. She was still on suicide watch three ridiculous weeks later. Sirius, Molly and Remus would take it in turns, foolishly thinking they were being sly about it; telling her, "Oh we're just so glad to have you back, blah, blah, blah, blah..." Didn't they think she had any brains at all; never leaving her side (even on occasion standing outside the door while she was in the loo) pretty fairly gave them away.

But what she was most angry with was Severus himself. He had been her knight in terrifyingly convincing Doctor's attire, had with the ease of his talented little finger sprung her from her worst nightmare, saved her from herself once again by magically sealing up her gushing wrists and then disappeared without so much as a 'by your leave.' She had seen what appeared to be tremendous concern in his black eyes, but he had not spoken to her but for the hurried questions of her immediate health and the commanding directions of her treatment. She was to take his altered version of magical replenishing potion twice a day along with some French wine and, "To keep strictly in doors from now on." She thought they had established somewhat of an unspoken friendship and here he was, scrambling out the door as fast as he could when it seemed she needed him most. She felt like a freak, and his behavior was nurturing that notion. His altered version of magical replenishing potion was not working either; almost as the perfect companion result to his total lack of backing. Could she not even plead 'patient's needs with him'?... he was her healer after all. No, nothing was changing except perhaps the fact that she was fast approaching alcoholism... French wine indeed. She couldn't wait for his next visit. She not only wanted some semblance of treatment; she also Needed to touch base. Some rather odd repressed memories were presenting themselves, perhaps induced by her stay at Lambeth? Whatever the cause, she had to let him know that she had been acquainted with the Crystal Ingot long before Mundungus had stumbled upon it.

)-

"What says my heart? Wishing you were mortal once again so that you might have the pleasure of ending your misery?"

"Anything is preferable to constant torment!"

"Ah, but you who are the King of Shame and all manner of 'Constant Torment.' Would you not think this type of company suitable?"

"Oh leave me be! I wish no more of you. Can you not pass on or something?"

"But it was you, dear Tom, who made me what I am. Do you not remember?"

"Remember what?"

"The night you killed me Dearest. Do you not remember your fickle words?"

"Speak plainly witch!"

Agatha's long, slender and horrifyingly putty finger ghosted over Voldemort's cheek as she gracefully glided behind him to whisper in his ear. "I seem to remember these exact words... 'You will not live Dearest, beyond this night. You will not breath, you will not speak, and you will most assuredly not laugh, ever again, in the flesh at least. You will not go on, ever again. You will forever haunt life however; you and your bloody perfect laugh. For me, you will forever haunt life... Dearest." She then placed a sickening kiss upon the ear she had been whispering into and laughed, sending chills down her companion's spine. "At that point, you gave the order, and watched as they killed me. Quite a heavy sentence to lay to someone's charge before they die don't you think?"

"I was simply speaking in metaphors you bloody stupid witch!"

"Well don't blame me Tom. They were after all your bloody stupid metaphors. Do you imagine for an instant that I would choose such a fate? It was your curse that bound me to you!... forever."

"Why then are you haunting me now?"

"Oh I've been about Tom, you simply haven't been paying attention." A moment's pause ensued, "October 31st. Does the date mean anything to you?"

Voldemort's eyes snapped up. "What have you to do with that date!"

Agatha smiled wickedly. "Oh I was there alright. I saw you wither away like a little putrid green mist on an All Hallows Eve," her laugh rang out softly with the revelation.

"Eeuuurrrr," Voldemort smashed his fists upon the ground. "What did you do!"

Agatha only laughed and Voldemort let out a howl of pain and covered his head.

)-

Things were finally settling again. All of the immediate emergencies had been dealt with and Snape had finally met with Dumbledore about the revelations of the Crystal Ingot. Daphne had brought to light that the Ingot was somewhat of a conduit, giving magic to the bearer. But, like all magic it's life force was fickle. Its magic would work best for only certain people. Its ultimate purpose would be to dispatch a store of additional power to it's one true bearer. This bearer had apparently not been found, and so the Ingot was still on the move, sifting it's magic from person to person. It would give protective power and act as somewhat of a charm to the common bearer while it awaited it's union with that person it chose to gift it's life force. For this reason, Voldemort had been particularly interested in it. His intention was to destroy it if he himself was not chosen. After all, any other person it chose could become a not inconsiderable adversary. Agatha Glennway realized this, and quite a few other things about her intended, so she hid it in the Almych copper mines and made it appear as if the Ingot had never been found. The only other living person who knew of its whereabouts was her beloved brother Tom. It was to be his job to re-introduce it to society long after Tom Riddle forgot about it, giving the Ingot the chance to find its bearer. But Tom had become so distraught after Agatha's death that he'd shut himself away from all of society. For years he'd forgotten of the thing in a pool of liquor. One day he did remember and went back for it, only to find that the copper miners had blasted the alcove in which it was hidden. He spent the next seven years travelling in cognedo looking for the thing as a testament to his sister's wish. When he did finally find it, embedded in a copper end table, he set out immediately to find an innocent third party to give it to... a little girl. The vision became hazy at that point, but did go on to prophesize that the Ingot will ultimately play a very substantial role in the Dark Lord's demise.

Sadly because of the contemptible incident with Lambeth Asylum it was unlikely they could count on any more revelations from that quarter. Daphne was damaged, and her gift corrupted. Severus felt like Avada'ing her father again, and again, and again. How could he send her there after so many years of estrangement? The man deserved death by extended Cruciatus exposure. She would never master her magic, she would not live a normal life now... be rendered a squib in the magical world: it was a handicap of the worst kind. His patient! His friend! The woman he respected and helped, who'd helped him in return, rendered a squib! He scowled and ran a rough hand through his greasy hair as he contemplated paying her a visit. It was high time he did it, if nothing else to assess if nothing had changed: which he knew it hadn't. He heaved a large sigh and reached for his encrypted, Sneakascope guarded, self-destruction security protected planner.

)-

He despised walking about with this infernal crutch. It's not as if he was all that fragile anyway. It was true that that nasty spell had done its job on him, but he was nearly healed and could move about of his own steam. He hated the whispers and the stares of ghastly surprise as he passed. It's not as if his lovely features had been marred; why all the intrigue? He was tiring of hearing things like; "_Ah, it's Malfoy!_" and "_Look! They say he caught that awful German spell…_" "_Oh the poor boy!_" He need not their pity! Oh sure it was fun to earn Pansy's pity with the whole hippogriff incident but that was all a fabrication; a joke! This was very real…very real indeed. There was a pain in his heart for the pain he had suffered. It almost wrung tears from him to think on all that he had gone through to heal thus far. It took a great deal of effort on his part and pain; and he had overcome so much. How could someone have done that to him. He was, admittedly so, feeling quite sorry for himself. The abominable thing was that he really did need the damnable crutch no matter what he tried to convince himself of. He felt unwell with only a little exertion each day. He often needed to sit and rest midway between classes; and forget about an important little thing like Quiddich. Quiddich was gone from his life for a long while. Oh damnable spell! **Damnable** witch who had done this to him. Severus was right. Why had Umbridge told him Potter would be there on the sly? Why hadn't she called a meeting with the entire Inquisitorial Squad? There was something very fishy about the business and she had everything to do with it! Sometime soon, perhaps after his blasted health returned fully, that blasted witch would have to answer for what she'd done…

)-

There was a sensible and thankfully quiet knock on the front door of Grimmauld Place one Saturday afternoon. Daphne sighed because it was probably another snippy Order member come to gloat again. More rumors had been flying about and not just about scandalizing relationships either. It was beginning to be wondered why no one had ever witnessed Daphne perform so much as a shred of magic before. They couldn't even perceive a wand on her person. Was she a squib? Was that why the Order had taken her in; to protect her? But then again _why_? It was a kind notion but the Order really couldn't afford to go about extending charity unless she was particularly important. What was she hiding? Was she perhaps a dark assassin who had turned sides? An assassin who knew wandless magic and had a propensity to refrain from using it unless absolutely necessary? Whatever the cause, everyone was beginning to seriously mistrust her; the proof evident on their faces.

She therefor opened the door with a sternly serine air only to find an equally sternly serine Severus. It took her entirely by surprise to see him at all. Her eyes involuntarily became a size larger, but then her right eyebrow rose in defense of her wounded feelings toward his attitude as of late. "Severus. I didn't expect to see you till the next Order meeting."

"Miss Martin, how very pleasant to find you answering instead of that altogether overwhelmingly wise werewolf," Snape bowed.

Daphne almost smirked, but was miffed enough to keep her face straight. "Come in." She opened the door wider and moved aside.

Snape was perturbed at her stilted attitude and glided in without comment. He motioned for her to follow and proceeded to the library. She followed. Once in the dreary and spotless room Severus finally spoke as he withdrew his wand and began preparations for diagnostic spells. "Have you been feeling any dizzying effects from my replenishing potion as of late Miss Martin?"

Daphne only stared at her friend in silence as his spells washed over her, drawing out her pause as he raised his eyebrow at her. "I know you think I'm now a squib Snape; one doesn't have to be perceptive to figure that one out. Why don't we skip over this annoying farce and get to the important business…"

"The _important business_…Why Miss Martin, whatever can you mean?" His wand suspended in motion as he stared at her.

She swallowed down the bitter taste at his easy pass over of her magical wellbeing. "I believe I am receiving disjointed repressed memories at the trauma of my return to Lambeth. I can't be entirely sure, but I think you will be interested in knowing for the Order's sake."

Snape didn't show how intrigued he was; only extending an arm with a quick, "Please sit down," and seated himself.

)-

A/N: Special Thanks to the movie "Wolfman" from whom I stole the title of the insane asylum.


	15. Draco and the Sneak

Chapter 15 – Draco and the Sneak

It had been months since Draco had been struck down with the Awefundhiem spell and he had become obsessed with the idea of revenge. With each strained step he took up a flight of stairs, with each disgusting potion he had to drink prior to eating so that his body would not reject his food, with each date he was unable to attend because of the fatigue which shackled him to evenings of couch rest after meals (Pansy having long since left him for Blaize who was whole and healthy and happy); he was becoming more and more calculating and driven to find a way to sabotage the perpetrator of his condition. All he could see was the molten ball of lava rage which was the axis by which all revenge revolves. All he could think about was her demise.

All of his fellow Slytherin comrades had forgotten about him and so had forgotten to take his name off of the list. He was still legitimately part of the Inquisitorial Squad and he planned to utilize that fact to his advantage. He still had in his possession the "Distinguished Officer's" Badge he had earned and he still held authority above other Inquisitorial Squad members; _and he intended to use it!_ He would lie in wait for the opportune moment to strike…and that he would.

)-

Daphne was considerably more relaxed since her meeting with Snape. They had worked through some of her disjointed memories and had come to understand them. Things were not as black as they seemed and there was still a chance she could live a normal life. She would have to be doubly protected though and Severus was adamant about her heightened security which he discussed with a disgruntled Sirius.

"Miss Martin's protection measures must be raised considerably."

"That's the first thing you've said Snape that I actually agree with," Sirius said testily.

"I'm going to place portkeys strategically about the house which will transport the traveler to a safe house in Albania."

"Why so far away from home?" Daphne was anything but comfortable with this idea.

"The farther away from original location, the safer," was Snape's short answer as he levitated a book about the Albanian Kanun code to the library. It was an unsuspecting choice of portkey for the room. He would choose equally suitable items for every other room in the house…an old Albanian army coat for the troll-foot coat stand in the hallway; an Albanian potions bottle sitting atop the medicine cabinet for the basement kitchen; a jar of pickled Albanian toads for the top shelf of the pantry; and a plain brass Albanian wall mirror for each of the bedrooms.

He also refreshed the tracking spell he had put upon Daphne months prior (she knew she was being childish but she just couldn't help feeling slightly put out). He equipped each room with a 'defense kit' (since wands were utterly useless to her) and gave Daphne a small leather journal. She eyed him quizzically and he said, "If ever you feel threatened or simply scared write to me." For the first time in weeks she exhibited a brilliant smile. Sirius looked disgusted. Severus smirked a very un-Snapish smirk and turned on his heel. Just before he exited he handed her the precious ingot. She was to keep it on her person at all times and he would work further with her whenever he was able. He then stepped out into the bitter cold so that he could travel to the place he least wanted to be.

)-

"Have you found anything of import on this insupportable situation Severus?" The question was more a command than a question. The force of it ironically reflecting in it the growing weakness and desperation the stone man felt.

"I have My Lord. What you seem to be suffering from is _Spoken Sorcery_. It is a very rare and unused branch of magic originating in Eastern Wizarding Cultures of the pre-religious eras. It is theorized in Indian mythology and Hinduism that spoken words have tremendous mystic power; and that to lie is to violate the natural equilibrium of the universe…it throws the world into a sea-saw of chaos and destruction. This destruction must be set to rights by the battling forces of good and evil so that there is a constant natural balance. All this is derived from the underlying strain of magic used in pre-historic Asia. That is – words have power. To proclaim something is to make it so…It is _spoken_ and thus is manifested unto life. Of course it would take someone of tremendous magical talent (as eastern magic is far more potent than most other culture strains) and it would have to be spoken with conviction and passion. It is essentially harnessed through a type of earnestness only someone very certain of what they want would portray. When My Lord, you told Miss Glenway that she would 'forever haunt life for you,' I believe you inadvertently invoked an ancient magic which bound her to you in life –forever-"

The pause that stretched between them was asphyxiating. At length The Dark Lord spoke, "Why was this magic invoked? I have never dabbled in Eastern Magic."

"It is my belief that Miss Glennway had expected you would come for her in the end and arranged what one might call a mystic booby-trap. Foreign and ancient magic was after all her area of expertise."

"Why did it take her so long to appear? It has been close to fifty years since that dreadful night!"

"I'm not sure My Lord. I am in the midst of investigations into ghostly bonds to human life. You see in most cases a ghost will be particularly attached to locations of importance… Perhaps that is why, Sir."

Voldimort hummed in thought before dismissing Snape with a warning to keep investigating so that they might find a cure to this terrible curse. Severus was only too happy to comply.

)-

It was a particularly dark and quiet night at the castle; almost like the eye of the storm. Draco knew that this night would be important along the grisly path Umbridge had been so neatly paving through Hogwarts. Not that he particularly minded her motives or methods if they furthered his interests (which they had been before his illness)…he just couldn't stand the woman anymore. She had become his enemy and as such would meet the not inconsiderable power that was his scheming. He pinned his 'Distinguished Officer's' Badge onto the front of his impeccable school robes and grudgingly carted his crutch along as he ascended the dungeon staircases. He, as quickly as could be expected, checked all the primary squad hangouts as well as its main meeting places. He found what he was looking for – the subtle signs of an attack formation. He hid in an alcove behind an ugly dragon shaped vase and waited.

After an indistinguishable amount of time he saw a very tempting distraction run past. Potter looked very anxious and was heading for the boy's loo. If it had been any other occasion he would have made some scathing remark; but since it was after hours (and this particular bathroom was located right across the hall from the Room of Requirement) he was fairly certain this was why his comrades were currently forming an attack. The urge to use the tripping jinx on Potty was almost unbearable but he had to stay focused. This temptation is what had gotten him into so much trouble in the first place and he intended to think before he acted this time. He let the 'boy who scored' rush into the loo therefore and laid in wait for what would come next.

Crabb came waddling down the hall heading right for the loo. Draco stepped from the alcove and placed his crutch right at Crabb's feet effectively impeding further waddling…who said the crutch was a complete disappointment. "Where are you going with such…_alacrity_…if I may ask Crabb?"

Crabb looked terrified for a moment before his face melted into its usual state of confusion and mumbled something which sounded like "bathroom break." It was almost comical.

Draco rolled his eyes and took care of it. "Go down to the fifth floor towards the statue of Romilda the Ruthless and intercept some sad little Gryffindors…"

"But!"

"Go! And you had better have caught them before they disperse or the HIness will be quite vexed with you…Now go." 'HIness' was the sarcastic abbreviation/nickname the squad had tagged to the High Inquisitor out of pure boredom; though no one dared call her that to her face. Draco watched as poor Crabb made his way out of sight.

Draco sighed and began a steady trek through the halls to see if he might gauge more information about the situation. He found the High Inquisitor herself frustrated beyond measure and at her wits end. Draco smirked.

"Mr. Malfoy! What are you doing about?" She questioned a bit surprised at seeing him actively participating.

"Aiding in the capture of delinquents of course. What do we have here?" He indicated the girl who always hung around with that Chang girl. She was currently clutching her face and crying.

"Oh this brave young lady, Miss Marietta Edgecombe, has just informed me of suspicious behavior apparently surrounding Mr. Potter."

What kind of an idiot did she think he was; he wasn't going to fall for that one again.

"We were just about to take her to Dumbledore's office to have a little chat with the Minister about our Headmaster's alleged seditious actions. It would be most convenient if we could turn Mr. Potter over as well; but we could always track him down later and arrest him if necessary. You mustn't stress yourself Draco if you're feeling unwell…"

"Nonsense, I am always happy to help Ma'am in matters of state," he bowed. She apparently was the idiot: giving away valuable information like that so unnecessarily. He would have loved to know what house she came from… "But pray tell what an insignificant student such as Potter has to do with our Headmaster's seditious behavior? I would love to capture him myself you see."

"His name appears on a list entitled 'Dumbledore's Army' which makes him an accomplice." She produced a faded and wrinkled parchment with a list of twenty odd names in a scribble he thought he recognized. "Miss Edgecombe here knows all about it and is prepared to divulge what happened to the Minister himself. Those traitorous filthy little monsters tried to get her to join them." Umbridge punctuated her 'shocking' statement with a sniff and a sharp tug of her squashy little head which Draco guessed was meant to be a nod.

"Never fear, I shall track him down and bring him to you in the Headmaster's office." With that he snapped his heals together (in an unconscious imitation of his clever godfather's agile deportment) and limped away. No one noticed his subtle wand work as he turned or the confused look that glided itself over the marred face of Marietta Edgecombe.


	16. Amid Discoveries

A/N : **Ooops, I posted the rough draft not the publishable version of this chapter. There are very few differences, but significant ones in the last few paragraphs… Here is the correct version. Sorry for the inconvenience. And Thank You for reading.**

Chapter 16 – Amid Descoveries

It was late hours at Grimmauld Place. Severus had placed the portkeys and defense kits about the house earlier that day and Daphne felt like a small child in her excitement. Sirius had gone to bed hours ago and she posed quite a childish picture with her skirted legs splayed out and her fascinated gaze starring at several objects scattered about in front of her on the library floor. She ran a hand over the smooth leather surface of the communication journal Severus had given her, traveling her fingers lightly across the red patterned rug to the beautiful twinkling ingot that she felt far more familiar with now and finally settled on a small burgundy box covered in velvet. She opened the old brass hinge and looked inside. It was filled with magical defensive objects and potions.

The flashy ruby incrusted dagger caught her eye first. It was a genuine Carnwennan Dagger which had the power to shroud it's user in shadow so as to hide them until the opportune moment. Legend had it that King Arthur had been in the possession of one given to him by Merlin. Daphne smiled and put it back in its place in the velvet box.

There was a beautiful purple potion which was a very potent strength enhancer (one of Severus's design). Any man who presumed to overpower a woman under its influence would encounter quite a shock. It enhanced the user's strength by ten.

Next to the potion lay a nice big glob of Peruvian Darkness Powder that she suspected was purchased from the Weasley Twins.

An atomizer of Confundus liquescence which worked something like mace in the muggle world was kept in a convenient side pocket. After it was sprayed into the attacker's eyes it would sting and incapacitate him for a moment, then confuse him to a severe degree: sometimes even causing amnesia.

Then there was a flask of Polyjuice Potion with sample hairs from Bellatrix Lestrange's Dark person. Daphne shivered at that not wanting to ever have to wear that woman's face; it was enough that she had to wear her old cloths. But in a bad situation the disguise could always buy her a few moments to escape even if the real Bellatrix was among the attackers.

Beside the flask there was a silver ring with an onyx stone inlaid in it. It was a Fury Ring, said to have the power to strike terror into the hearts of her enemies. All she had to do was slip it on her finger and walk towards her foe. Apparently he would see some kind of horrifying harpy.

She was tempted to wear it to breakfast tomorrow morning just to see what Sirius's reaction would be. She smiled a supremely evil smile and put it back in its box, closing the lid so she would not be tempted further. She picked up the communication journal and opened it; looking over the blank brown parchment with uneven edges. She held the pages against her thumb and slowly let them loose so that they shimmered under the candle light as they shuffled closed. She considered writing a wry greeting in one of the many pages and decided against it at once…Severus was a serious man; not given to many friendly indulgences of that sort. He would not approve. She smiled and sighed as she closed it and began fastening the thin leather strings in an elegant Celtic looking knot.

Her head snapped up in alarm. There was a sudden booming in the kitchen which sounded an awful lot like the green flames of the floo network flaring up and then dying down again. Who would be extending a floo call at this hour? Either it was an Order member coming to tell them that something dreadful had happened…or the other reason…it was someone who had found their headquarters and broken through their wards. For a moment she froze. What should she do! Hide? Use some of her defensive items? But then what if it was an Order member? In a split second decision she opened the velvet box and grabbed the ring, sliding it onto her finger.

She shuddered as she felt a sudden violent surge of power run through her body; from the very tip of the magical glands in her brainstem to the very tips of her toes. Anxiety shot up in her bosom as if she was pelting forward down a rolley-coaster. She gasped in shock. The distinctly primal power she felt raised its ugly head in her like an identity all of its own and she felt all her pent up anger, resentment, hatred and fear magnetize right into it. She could _feel_ changes in her anatomy; her irises swiveling to change in size and color; her hair frizzing and raising in volume in response to the electric magical force of all her most disgusting human instincts; her fingernails elongating and sharpening to hawk-like talons. She found herself possessing an uncontrollable urge to stand and find her foes…

)-

Dumbledore appeared in the large hearth in a swish of green at Number 12 Grimmauld Place at roughly two o'clock in the morning. It was eerily still even for being the middle of the night. His eyes narrowed in observation as he carefully stepped out of the fireplace and sniffed the air. He knew something was wrong. He drew his wand and glided up the stairs and down the hallway towards the front door.

Suddenly, a door opened up ahead and a sinister figure exited the library. Wand at the ready, Dumbledore stood his ground and waited for the specter to approach. It was dark but he could make out that it was female and had an almost dramatized shade of evil. When she turned and saw him she immediately came towards him at an alarming speed; whizzing some four inches above the ground. Dumbledore felt an unholy chill cascade down his spine as she came closer and realized what was so wrong. She was a Furria (that is, the user of a Fury Ring)…She was Daphne.

Quick as a flash he waved his wand and she slumped to the floor into a comfortable sleep. People under the influence of the dreaded Fury Rings were able to tap into extreme super human strength and power through the adrenaline which our violent instincts provide. They were also rendered insanely aggressive; driven by their deepest darkest hatreds towards anyone who happened to be in direct contact with them. Only the very strongest of characters could differentiate between friend and foe under its effects. Even a muggle would become dangerous to magic folk while wearing one. They however could be stopped with cool and collected behavior because their strongest power laid in the fact that most of their victims became too physiologically terrified to think or even run when pursued by them. They instinctively knew this and didn't think to protect themselves from the most common defensive spells.

Dumbledore walked to poor Daphne's strewn body, still altered by the terribly spelled ring to look like a harpy, and knelt down to her level. He slid the ring from her finger and watched as her ghastly appearance receded back into her usually gentle and elegant features. He shuddered off the last of the frightful encounter and sighed in exhaustion; slipping the ring into his pocket. He lifted her affectionately to take her back to her room.

)-

The next morning Daphne awoke with a headache. She remembered last night's events and leaped out of bed. She threw on her dressing robe and ran downstairs and into the kitchen to find Sirius and Dumbledore sitting at the kitchen table over a cup of tea. She sighed in relief that they were both alright and closed her eyes in silent thanks.

"Daphne," Sirius stood and strode over to her shaky form, grasping her shoulder. "How are you?"

"I'm fine Sirius. Professor Dumbledore, how are you Sir?"

"Quite alright my dear Miss Martin." He smiled warmly at her.

Sirius rubbed her shoulder soothingly. "Daphne, Dumbledore is dealing his 'extended stay' card," Sirius smirked, "got into a scuffle with dear old Cornelius Fudge of the Ministry."

"But that's the Minister himself isn't it? That can get very, very bad. Are you in hiding?"

"I am indeed Ms. Martin…We are the three of us comrades in our legal delinquency," Dumbledore smiled wryly.

"But who will be there for the students at Hogwarts? With that awful Umbridge there, how will things fair? How will Harry fair?" Sirius winced slightly at Daphne's words.

"Yes how will Harry fair? We could always just go pick him up…"

"That is out of the question, Sirius. Harry must learn to fight his battles: he will need the skills this situation can provide to ultimately fight life as he especially must. Fortunately, Mr. Malfoy has made things rather bearable for him."

"Come again?"

"Oh not intentionally of course…The Malfoy boy has grown quite bitter I'm afraid, and has put into effect a course which may poison his teenage years ever-after."

"What are you on about?"

"Malfoy wants retribution. He is surprisingly intelligent for a young man and very calculating, something I believe he learned from his godfather. And he's set his mind to retaliate against those who jeopardized his health. He is going to waste his youth on matters so unhealthy."

"Well what's that got to do with Harry?" Daphne asked.

"In his effort to sabotage Dolores's plans he's inadvertently saved Harry from being accused of treason. He clouded Miss Edgecombe's memory you see so that she could not recount what she had experienced with the members of 'Dumbledore's Army,' Harry's secret defense organization. He then brought Harry to me in the midst of accusation. It was because of this that I could persuade him from confessing to the offense being charged him. Mr. Malfoy further helped the situation by putting a very powerful confundous charm upon Dolores just as she was about to tell the Minister of her suspicions. All in all, they were only able to really take into account what I myself wanted them to believe given the material evidence."

Sirius's brows rose in astonishment. "I say, I would have loved to be the proverbial fly on the wall."

)-

Draco Malfoy was particularly pleased with himself. He had Confunded Umbridge at the precise moment when she was to plead her case against Potter and she had looked like a right idiot standing there gawking when she had stopped mid-sentence. Everybody looked at her as if she had turned green and she looked sufficiently mortified. It was not a spectacular vengeance, the annoyance he had brought to her that night, but it was the commencement of a long and fruitful relationship of payback. Malfoy's carefully laid plan was to drive her slowly mad with constant pressure on that rigid head. This is how Malfoy worked: in patiently arranging a situation to snowball into the result he himself wanted. Malfoy was interrupted from his delighted musings by the three paragons of heroism speaking to Ernie McMillan as they made their way back to the castle…

"Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old…"

"Now, do you _really_ want to finish that sentence, Granger?" Malfoy was alight with enthusiasm. It made him feel invigorated to pick on the old triplet he had hated. This thing had drawn on him terribly and he no longer felt like the teenager that he was…the youth had been stolen from him! And these childish arguments made him feel like everything was back to normal - the 'Good Old Days.' He proceeded to take points.

"you can't take points from fellow prefects, Malfoy!" An outraged Ernie McMillan exclaimed.

He then informed them with glee of the special privileges Inquisitorial Squad members held over other students of status and took a hefty toll from each of his classmates. Weasely tried to pull a wand on him for calling Granger a mudblood but she stopped him _effortlessly_ just in time. Personally he believed that the Weasel King let her stop him just to get out of it. "Wise move, Granger." He then departed, not before another nice round of name calling and headed for the library.

His intension was to find some means of tormenting the HIness sitting on her backside a few floors above. He had had a chuckle when he'd heard she couldn't get into the Head's quarters…the school had a mind of its own and apparently still responded only to the true headmaster. He would see that she got further unwelcome gestures. Ironically, he had laid heavily off of the Weasely twins simply for unknowingly aiding in his cause…He had passed them several times in suspicious circumstances and had walked on as if nothing. He had let Peeves carry on and now he himself was partaking in the pressures that would eventually send her to St. Mungos. He had in the dead of night switched all the decrees hanging upon the stone walls to read the opposite of what they had originally intended. For instances, _**Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four**_ now read:

-by order of-

THE HIGH ENQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth **required**. An Organization, Society, Team, Group or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students. Processes to re-form may be determined by pupils (The Student Body). Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, or Clubs must exist without the knowledge or approval of the High Inquisitor. Any students found to have not formed, or belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

Signed: _Dolores Jane Umbridge_, High Inquisitor

There had been a sudden outburst of delinquency. Apparently the student body had noticed before anyone of higher authority and overnight the 'new set of rules' had become sacred code. The Quibbler was now available in mass print all over the school not even with the presumption of disguise. Umbridge had been so upset that _every single_ student had rebelled on _**Educational Decree Number Twenty-Seven**_ that she had not even asked why. Instead of expelling all of the students, she had signed them up for a weeks-worth of detention with that awful quill. But they had all taken it with pride and, since everyone had already guessed that the decrees had been tampered with, no one had informed her of what was happening. She was yet in the dark. Malfoy only smiled as it had caused her to be in constant action against somebody or other who was breaking a rule. She had to work double time to keep up, not even taking lunch in an effort to prevent mayhem. She was already at her wits end and it had only been a few days. He had of course protected himself, should she find out, by using Crabb's wand when he had changed the Decrees. Crabb would of course deny it and state that his wand had gone missing for twenty-four hours which Malfoy would corroborate by declaring that he had found it by the lake after making a full report of its theft. He had all points covered and it was just the beginning...

)-

Several floors down, Severus sat in silent reverie. He was becoming uncomfortable with the Voldemort situation. The man had been shut up for days without so much as a whisper of what was going on. He hadn't even received Severus when he had called with new information on Agatha. Perhaps this war was being won by a specter at ground zero. Regardless, he had only Dumbledore to confide the information to. Apparently Agatha had been a highly intelligent witch. Before she had hid the crystal in the Almwyche mines, she placed a restriction on it. This was highly elevated magic, never before attempted in record. Using the ancient magical knowledge of old middle-eastern cultures she had amassed, she had somehow managed to place a dilution release on it. If it chose to attach its power to a wizard, a being who already possessed magical essence, it would automatically have a chemical reaction which would release a good deal of its profitable power. This made it virtually useless to Voldemort. It also ensured that the magic of the crystal ingot would be far more driven to muggle auras, ultimately enhancing its chances of choosing a muggle bearer. Oh, the irony. Snape almost smiled at the thought. Then she entrusted her brother, a man they would never expect her to trust with it due to his lack of reliability, to reintroduce it to society after a span of time. It was only because of his flight into hiding that they ended up suspecting him. Aside from this somewhat more important information, Snape actually did have more insight into her current status as a specter.

She had used _spoken sorcery_ against her lover. She knew that he would not be able to resist a poetic and meaningful goodbye if he was present at her execution. She knew he would be, because she knew him well. She bound her "magical identity" to his _forever_. After much research, Snape was able to base his conclusions on obscure theory which he was almost certain was fact. Voldemort's predicament proved these theories correct in his mind. Magic did indeed follow the spirit after death. And it just so happened that Agatha's magical essence was of a compatible strain with Voldemort's. This is something he had determined through Daphne's visions. He had seen Agatha's tireless work nights for months in preparation for the spectacular magical feet she was about to pull-off. This was somewhat similar to the splitting of a horcrux. But instead of using the hate of a murder to split the soul, she used the love she still harbored for him to do the opposite – join her magic to his. This inadvertently split her soul the way a horcrux would, but not into magically equal pieces. The non-magical part of her passed on as a muggle soul. The magical part stayed behind, with him. This magical piece of essence has abilities a ghost does not have because it is a concentration. The complexity of it, and simplicity of it appealed to Snape's nature and he was fascinated by it. But as for the million gallion question, how to undo what had been done? Snape suspected that it would be a means of splitting her off by means of a horcrux; but that would mean yet another murder and an incarcerated Agatha within a trinket. Not to mention, that Voldemort would have to find a way to split the right piece from his existing soul. After all, he had created several horcrux's since Agatha's death and had not split her off yet. Snape wanted to sit on this horcrux theory of his. Hopefully, Voldemort would be defeated before he got wind that he might be able to split her off. Perhaps then she might be free of the fetters of Tom Riddle once they both died.

0)-

Post Script: King Arthur's Carnwennan Dagger mentioned in the second paragraph is taken from genuine legend.


End file.
